A Tale as Old as Time (Legends Retold: book 1)
by Embrasia
Summary: Gwen, a Spanish philanthropist, finds love with a culinary student named Arthur, but before they can live happily ever after he must save her from the Beast. Will Arthur be able to find the prince within to save the woman he loves? [Gwen/Arthur], [Beast/Belle]
1. Chapter 1: Be Our Guest

Prologue: Forbidden Rose

"We are destined to be in love forever." Those were the words inscribed on the exquisite knives she had given him. For one single perfect moment in time Arthur had believed it. Though an odd gift from a lover, Arthur appreciated the knives. They made his competitive culinary classes a little less challenging. Preparing fantastic cuisine was Arthur's passion, and his lady had been the only one who truly understood that. Her encouragement and support were just two of many reasons he missed her so much. She seemed his perfect match, but not in the cheesy finish each other's sentences manner. She was his match in more meaningful ways.

They didn't agree on everything, but this created a sense of balance, rather than conflict. Her mere presence made Arthur strive to be a better man, and now he felt like he'd lost everything. She was gone and Arthur was left to reassemble the shattered pieces of his life.

He wistfully rubbed his thumb over the engraving: a broken promise of eternal devotion. Was she right, Arthur asked himself. Was there such a thing as destiny? If so, did that mean he was cursed to endure the pain of her loss forever? Arthur had so many unanswered questions wearing away at him like an acid.

Despite the corrosion of his soul, he willed himself to slice poultry with the very knives she left in his heart. The cold wet sensation of chicken at his fingertips became a much-needed distraction. After all Arthur had been through, he still did not regret his decision to attend school here. The gleaming stainless steel kitchen at the culinary institute was the closest to a home Arthur had ever felt.

Of course, he grew up in a house with a mother, father, and brothers but it never truly felt like home. He didn't fit in with his family and felt judged by them at times. The steel hoop in his lip and the tattoos hidden beneath his sparkling white chef's coat were just a few characteristics that set him apart from the straight-laced Christian family he left behind in England.

When the opportunity presented itself to study abroad in Spain, Arthur couldn't pass up the chance to escape the mundane and learn something spectacular. Spain seemed a decade ahead of the rest of the world in culinary arts. This exclusive program received thousands of applications a year and they only accepted forty students. It was a miracle that Arthur got in, and he'd never been one to just throw away a miracle.

The aspiring chef packed a bag small enough to carry onto a plane and the only item that bore meaning to him: a photo of a small girl. The kid was Arthur's niece, Sefa, a rambunctious six year old, who was the one relative who absolutely adored him. In the photo on his keychain she was dressed in a chef's hat and apron, prepared to make Play Dough pizza. After watching _Ratatouille_ , a film about a cartoon rat who became a master chef, Sefa decided she wanted to be just like Uncle Arthur… much to the family's dismay. Arthur spoke his mind without a filter and partied too hard sometimes. He was not the sort of guy that most would consider a role model for small children, but in Sefa's eyes he could do no wrong.

Arthur's lover had been another fan of his blatant honesty. It was refreshing to know she had one person in her life that would always tell her the truth. She felt like most people wore fake smiles while spreading polite lies. She often told Arthur that she valued their relationship because truly genuine people were hard to come by. Most days Arthur could not fathom how things could have gone so terribly wrong when they'd been so happy together.

The aroma of exotic herbs and spices whirled around the kitchen as Arthur chopped his vegetables that morning. The tapping of his knife against the cutting board added to the ambiance of sizzling skillets and boiling pots.

He was fiercely dedicated to his craft, determined not to allow his heartache to destroy him. Arthur had flown halfway around the world for this opportunity, and he was not going to piss it all away.

Culinary students weaved in and out of a steamy atmosphere, working diligently on their projects. They crafted entrees so delicate it required the use of tweezers and various instruments. This demanded the concentration and skill of performing surgery. Each plate became a work of art. Anything less than a masterpiece resulted in a public crucifixion by the culinary professors.

Arthur struggled to focus on the task at hand and remain off the professor's ass-chewing list, but he remained distracted by memories of the strangest relationship he'd ever had. She was smart, talented, and beautiful, but loving her would come at a deadly price. She was his forbidden rose…

* * *

Chapter 1: Be Our Guest

Exactly one month ago Arthur and his girlfriend, Gwen, were snuggling on his couch. She was tall for a girl, with midnight curls, and chocolate brown eyes. Her skin was tanned, a sharp contrast to his own ivory complexion. He was grateful that she spoke English, even though she did so with a heavy Spanish accent.

They were watching _Beauty and the Beast_. His choice of movie struck her as odd for a grown man: a cartoon with singing furniture. Arthur explained that his niece loved the movie and he watched it whenever he missed her. This was only half true. Arthur had always loved the fairytale because of the fabulous French cuisine and the characters. He admired Belle's strength, bravery, and patience to love a man others deemed unloveable. He loved Belle's determination to make the Beast a better man. Arthur had always valued strong women, with big hearts, who cared about other people.

Gwen valued those same traits in a man and she was delighted every time Arthur cooked for her. She thought it sweet and considerate. He was truly gifted and the only person on earth she interrupted her strict diet for. Her job demanded flavorless food and an abundance of exercise, but Gwen made exceptions for Arthur.

Gwen snacked on a handful of buttery popcorn and snickered to herself. Arthur was singing quietly to _Be Our Guest_ and he could not have looked more adorable if he tried. The jig was up. He was busted. It was clear that this tattooed rebel personally enjoyed the fairytale.

Gwen didn't have the heart to tell Arthur how much she truly loathed _Beauty and the Beast_. It was not a love story in Gwen's opinion, just a shitty tale about a girl with Stockholm Syndrome. The Beast imprisoned Belle, made himself her master, and controlled her comings and goings. He even dictated when she was allowed to have food, and grew furious and blew up when his servants fed her without his permission. The Beast yelled, screamed, and intimidated Belle and all of this was okay because there were singing cups and plates. Gwen couldn't understand why people applaud at the end of the movie when Belle ends up with this jerk. They might have been singing _Be Our Guest,_ but Belle was just a prisoner.

The thing that repulsed Gwen most was how Disney shamelessly and recklessly marketed this crap to children. This movie taught dangerous concepts. It trained little boys to believe it's acceptable to treat women in this manner. It told little girls that control and love were one and the same. Instead of seeking a good man to spend your life with you should seek out a beast, because you can always change him, right? It taught them that it's okay for a man to imprison you and control every aspect of your life. Gwen knew from her volunteer work and the various charities she ran that women's shelters, hospitals, and morgues were full of naïve girls who thought they could change a beast. But sweet Gwen refused to break Arthur's heart as he sang along to the cartoon, with a childlike glimmer in his eyes.

"You're such a child," she spoke in that alluring Spanish accent of hers. "Do you have a true life Belle waiting for you back in England?"

Arthur shook his head no. "I came close a few times, and have the tattoos to prove it, but it didn't last."

She leaned away from him with a suspicious glare. "Am I to become the next unfinished story on your arm?"

He shrugged, "sure I guess. There's still room."

"Asshole!" Gwen gave him a playful slap on the chest and a shove.

With a chuckle, he pulled her into his arms and stole a kiss from her lips. He would have been grateful for just a peck, but he was pleasantly surprised when she gripped a handful of his golden hair and pulled him in deeper. Her kiss was sensual, almost needy, like she'd been starving for it all night, and he matched her with equal fire.

When they came up for air Arthur teased her with an impish grin, "you give me shit constantly, but you know you love me, Guinevere."

"If I did, would that frighten you?" Gwen asked. Such words had never been spoken between them, and men had been known to tuck tail and run after such admissions.

"Not at all," Arthur confessed. She smiled with relief and pulled him down into another steamy kiss.

The pleasant memory that had risen to the forefront of Arthur's mind, sank beneath the surface of his subconscious, like a whale into the sea. The strawberry scent of Gwen's perfume was chased away by the aroma of savory sauces and spicy peppers. The cozy mauve walls of his apartment faded into stainless steel counters and stark white tile.

His culinary professor was staring impatiently at him. It was clear that Arthur had missed a question, and world class chefs did not like repeating themselves. The entire class was looking at him. Some of them were rooting for the poor bastard to bullshit his way to a believable answer, while others were hoping he would fall on his face.

"What sauce is served with Eggs Benedict?" asked the stern-faced professor… for the second time.

Arthur had been caught off guard, but he recovered quickly. "Eggs Benedict is served with Hollandaise sauce, a mixture of egg yolk, liquid butter, water, and lemon juice."

"What type of egg does this dish require?"

"Poached?" Arthur said, a bit unsure of himself.

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"It's poached… I'm sure of it."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as the chef gave a nod of approval and moved on to his next victim. Arthur was amazed at how quickly a teacher can make you second guess an answer that you know better than the back of your own hand.

He returned to his cooking with lingering thoughts of Gwen. Once, she had dressed in a shortened version of Belle's yellow ball gown, with garter belts and lacy stockings. Gwen even held the enchanted rose. She sent photos to his phone while he was in class. Arthur sped home the moment he was released for break.

No words were spoken, he just claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss. Gwen felt the cool wall against the bare skin of her back as he pressed her body with his own. He hungrily kissed and nibbled at her neck and shoulder, eliciting sweet moans and Spanish whispers from her. Arthur leaned forward and lifted her. She wrapped her stockinged legs around his back, as he carried her to bed, and laid her on the cool sheets.

He barely made it back to school after practically pouncing on his girlfriend. They just held one another in a breathless sweaty heap, dreading the moment he would have to leave her. He was resting on her chest, with his ear over her beating heart. The drumming of it was serenading him to sleep.

"I love you," he spoke in a drowsy satisfied voice. "I don't want to leave you."

Gwen's grasp of the English language was loose at times and she wasn't sure if she understood him perfectly. She didn't know how best to respond so she didn't. Gwen raised her head from the pillow to drop a kiss on the crown of his head. Then she nestled back into the plush pillows and ran her fingers through his sweat damp hair. Her fingertips gently massaged his scalp, lulling him to sleep again.

"Arthur," she whispered into his tousled blonde locks. She wanted to drop the subject but needed clarity. "When you said you didn't want to leave me did you mean for today or forever?"

He raised his head from the smooth bare skin of her chest to gaze upon her face as he vowed, "both."

"I love you too," she swore, pulling him down into a heated kiss that spun them into round two.

This erotic memory brought a smile to Arthur's face, and he found himself wishing that things had remained this perfect between them. Gwen was so guarded that she allowed him to know very little about her. She refused to tell him where she worked or what she did for a living. They'd been together for months and he'd never been to her place. He hadn't a clue where she lived. It was like carrying on a relationship with a CIA operative, but Arthur was determined to wear away the stony shell that surrounded Gwen, just as Belle did with the Beast.

One Saturday morning, Arthur received a cryptic message from an unfamiliar number. It was a date and time to meet Gwen. He was shocked to ride up to a fabulous estate with cars parked everywhere. He kicked the stand of his motorcycle and dismounted it, feeling underdressed for whatever was going on inside that mansion.

A man around his age, with dirty blonde hair and cerulean eyes met him at the gate. The fellow gave Arthur one glance and disliked him immediately.

"Is Gwen inside?" Arthur asked. "She texted me to meet her."

"I texted you," the blonde fellow said with an exasperated breath. "I'm her stepbrother, Adam."

"Can I speak with her?" Arthur insisted.

"She's busy."

"Then why did you text me?"

"To put an end to this pitiful charade." Adam pulled out his phone and showed photos timestamped from that very morning of Gwen in a wedding gown.

In some pictures, she was feeding cake to a man who was so handsome he didn't look real. In other photos, she was dancing with this Adonis of a fellow. These pictures were like a punch in the face for Arthur. They knocked the wind out of him. A sudden bout of nausea washed over him like a tidal wave. It made no sense and perfect sense at the same time. He could never come to her home or job. He'd never met her family.

"No fucking way," Arthur murmured in a trance.

"Gwen was engaged," said Adam, "and now she's married."

Arthur sent her a text message saying that he never wanted to see her again. Then he smashed the phone and took off on his motorcycle.

Arthur emerged from the cruel memory of having his heart ripped out as the professor released them for the day. He stepped outside to journey over the pristine white sidewalks and manicured lawns of a busy campus. That's when he noticed the missed call on his phone. It was Gwen, of all people. Even after the savage manner in which she lied to him and stabbed him in the heart, he found himself fighting the urge to call her back.

She called again and he could not control his hand, it flew ahead of his brain and answered the phone.

"What?" he snapped at her.

"You dump me over a text message and all you have to say is what!" Gwen screamed into the phone with tears streaming down her face. "You're a real piece of work!"

She was so furious that she slipped into her native Spanish, and she was speaking at such a velocity he could barely understand. Arthur had never been called so many dicks and assholes in a single conversation.

"What right do you have to be pissed at me?!" He screamed back, once there was a gap long enough for him to get a word in.

"I have every right to be furious!" She yelled. "I asked you if it would scare you for me to confess my love. You promised me that you were alright with my feelings for you. Then you tucked tail and ran like a coward!"

"I was pleased with your feelings! I felt the same way!" He insisted. "I wasn't okay with you being married and stringing me along!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Don't insult my intelligence! I crashed your wedding."

"I'm a model, dumbass! Why do you think I'm so picky about my diet?! It wasn't a real wedding. It was just a photo shoot."

Arthur heard a beep in his ear. He pulled the phone away to discover a photo she had sent him. It was Gwen on the cover of a bridal magazine. She was posed with a gorgeous male model, whom she cared nothing for.

Arthur was in shock. All he could do was repeat the words, "I'm so stupid… I'm so stupid."

To his surprise, he heard Gwen laughing on the phone. She was relieved that he didn't break up with her for the reasons she thought. Arthur hadn't been afraid of intimacy or commitment. He was ill-informed.

He began to laugh at himself. "Why didn't you just tell me you were a model?"

"Because such a confession has been known to be a relationship ender. You are not the only one who's suffered heartache," Gwen explained while wiping away her tears. "I get the insecure cavemen who demand that I quit modeling because they don't want anyone looking at their woman. Or I get the self-conscious babies who are intimidated by the male models, and want to dictate what jobs I accept. Or I get the arrogant jerks who treat me like a trophy to be claimed and flaunted, rather than a girlfriend to be loved. Or worst of all, I get the misogynistic assholes who believe that if I am a model I must be lacking in character or brains; that being a model makes me a bimbo. Before I told you what I did for a living I just wanted to show you that beauty and brains are not always sold separately. A woman can have both!"

"Would an apology be pointless?"

"I think an apology would be a good start," she growled between clenched teeth.

Arthur spent the next ten minutes begging for forgiveness while Gwen apologized for screaming obscenities at him in two languages.

She wanted to trust him again but couldn't until she knew the answer to this question, "how did you find out about my photo shoot? Were you fishing through my phone or tablet?"

"No, I would never do that."

"Be straight with me. I deserve that much."

"Guinevere, I would never go through your stuff," he insisted. "I don't like when people do it to me."

"Then how did you find out about the wedding shoot?"

Arthur explained. "Your brother is a dick. He invited me and said you had just gotten married. He showed me pics and everything."

Gwen's blood turned to ice. A shiver trickled down her spine. Goosebumps rose on her skin. She at last willed her petrified throat to bring forth words. "I don't have a brother. Run to the police, Arthur! Go right now!"

Gwen struggled and thrashed about as a sack was snatched over her face. She felt the sharp prick of a needle as it pierced her neck. Then everything went black.

The phone went dead on Arthur as he fought to make sense of it all. He called back but heard nothing of Gwen's exquisite voice. All Arthur heard were the taunts of the man he had previously encountered at her photo shoot. The guy was a stalker who had pretended to be Gwen's brother just to chase away the competition.

The monster who called himself Adam had terrorized Gwen in the past and now he'd become her captor. A beast had taken Arthur's beauty and there were no singing plates and charismatic candlesticks to make everything okay. Adam's malicious threats were raising the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck.

If Arthur contacted the authorities, the beast would kill his beloved. If Arthur did nothing she would suffer the same fate. Arthur had broken Gwen's heart, and let her down. He was determined to never fail her again. He was no soldier, just a culinary student, but his mind was made up. He would save her or die fighting…


	2. Chapter 2: Something There

Author's note: Thanks so much for the warm welcome back! I had to take some years off to complete my education but I'm very excited to be writing again! A reviewer asked for a prompt update so I'm posting this chapter early. I still have my old stories saved on my computer. If anyone wants to read them, please let me know which one and I will gladly repost it :^)

-Embrasia

Chapter 2:

Something There That Wasn't There Before

Lady luck was on Adam's side. Gwen's abduction had been the perfect crime. Adam had been so patient as he waited inside the cramped locker. He was encased in darkness, peering through slots in the metal door. Much to his dismay, Gwen had arrived later than normal to the gym. Though Adam's muscles ached, and his stomach growled, he refused to leave his vantage point in the women's locker room.

Adam had watched her often, but an opportunity had never presented itself. There were always witnesses, but today was different. Gwen was engaged in a phone call of an intimate nature. She was crying and screaming at Arthur. This caused the other ladies to leave quickly and grant her privacy.

After scouting for months, Adam and Gwen's fated moment had arrived. He ambushed Gwen and tucked her unconscious body into a large gym bag. As soon as the coast was clear, he slung the strap over his shoulder and left with her unnoticed…

* * *

On the opposite side of town, Arthur was not experiencing Adam's fortune. Arthur paced the floor of his apartment, chewing the nails from his fingers. This was a nightmare and he was unsure of what to do.

Even the sight of his cast iron skillet brought tears to his eyes. It had been forged by _Excalibur_ , a high-end manufacturer of culinary supplies. Arthur had used it to make British cuisine for Gwen. Their first kiss came after a dinner prepared in it. What was once considered his lucky pan, was now a painful reminder of everything he'd lost.

Arthur had never been one to resort to violence. He'd grown up in a quiet suburb and never raised a fist to anyone. For these reasons, he decided that Gwen's best chance was with the local authorities. Despite Adam's warning, Arthur called in an anonymous tip from a burner phone.

Arthur struggled to steady his voice as he told the dispatcher, "I'm reporting a kidnapping,"

"What vehicle did the abductor flee in?" asked the feminine voice on the phone.

"I didn't see."

"The vehicle or the kidnapping?"

"Neither."

The dispatcher urged him to remain calm while she transferred the call to a higher ranking officer. There was a brief pause, followed by a prerecorded voice, and then a cop hopped on the line and started asking questions, "have you received a ransom note, a video, anything?"

"No Sir, but I was on the phone with my girlfriend when she was taken," Arthur explained. "Some guy left with her and now my calls are going to voicemail."

Arthur had tried to speak the best Spanish he could, but he was so anxious and horrified that something was lost in translation.

"So… your girlfriend, left with some fellow and hasn't answered her phone since." The officer laughed. "We're in the business of saving lives, not solving domestic disputes."

"But officer, please…"

"Look kid, you have no ransom note, no voicemail, not so much as a threatening text. You admitted yourself that you didn't actually see anyone take her. With no proof of an abduction a missing person's report can only be filed after twenty-four hours."

The phone fell silent as the cop hung up on him. Arthur's heart sank into his stomach. He feared Gwen could be dead before the police even bothered to take a report. Arthur had no choice but to plead his case in person.

Arthur ran outside, hopped on his bike, and sped off. It seemed like every car in Spain was in his way. Was traffic really this slow or was the racing of his heart causing everything else to grind to a halt by comparison, prolonging the worst moment of his life?

Arthur desperately weaved between stagnant vehicles, zigzagging down the street. At one point, he jumped the curb and raced down the sidewalk. He reached the police station, and burst through the door, with English spewing from his mouth. Arthur frantically paced the floor as they left to find an English speaking officer.

Every terrible thought crossed Arthur's mind. What if Adam has cameras watching the police station? Or what if the stalker has an accomplice in uniform? Had Arthur risked Gwen's life by reporting the crime? His heart grew heavy at the thought of harm befalling her.

A tall burly cop approached and asked what was going on. The whole ordeal cascaded from Arthur's mouth.

The officer did not believe that a penniless Brit was the boyfriend of such a fabulous model. "Do you have any proof of this relationship?"

Arthur pulled out his phone to reveal romantic photos and intimate texts. What Arthur assumed would be his greatest aide, turned out to be his greatest downfall.

The cop stumbled across a message that stated he never wanted to see Gwen again. "Care to explain this?"

"It was just a misunderstanding," Arthur insisted.

"Perhaps she isn't answering you're calls because you broke up with her," the officer replied, "and via text. That's pretty cold." He turned around and said something in Spanish to his fellow officers.

The station erupted with laughter. It became painfully clear to Arthur that he was on his own…

* * *

Gwen's drug induced sleep brought on dreams of the past. She was having dinner at an upscale restaurant with her boyfriend, Gaston, a professional athlete. When he wasn't dominating the soccer field he was shooting some poor creature for sport and hanging its antlers on the wall. When he was doing neither of those things he was flaunting his wealth, which was the very reason he'd chosen this restaurant.

The place sold exotic cuisine. You could approach a tank and point to the fish you wanted to eat, and the chefs would prepare it in spectacular fashion. There was a wall of enormous aquariums. One had slithering octopod, another had squirming eels. There were live lobsters, crabs, and stingrays. The ceilings scraped the sky and were beautifully molded. It was like eating at Buckingham Palace, yet Gwen felt like no princess.

Snow fluttered outside the windows, the ground was covered in ice, and the wind was howling like a wolf. Despite the inclement weather, Gaston had insisted that Gwen wear a thin black dress and high heels. He'd always been more concerned about her appearance, than her safety and comfort. Gwen was cold at dinner and her ankle throbbed with pain from slipping on the ice, but Gaston was grinning like an idiot because all eyes were on his girl. He got off on attention, and it saddened Gwen to think that this narcissistic prick was the best she'd ever do.

The fitness facility where she worked out was across the street from the stadium he trained in. Months ago, Gwen decided she would do something nice for her boyfriend and brought lunch for his entire team. The other players were courteous and grateful, but Gaston was irritable the entire time. He had expected her to show up in a designer dress, expensive shoes, and with her hair and makeup done. When he saw that she'd come straight from the gym, in yoga pants, and tennis shoes, with her hair tossed back in a ponytail Gaston was extremely disappointed. He expressed his annoyance that she would appear so plainly in front of the guys he worked with. Gwen called him an ungrateful jerk and never brought him lunch again.

"We're not having dessert, gracias," Gaston told the waiter, as always, without asking Gwen if she wanted any.

He was often concerned that she would get fat and embarrass him. Even when they sat together at home she would catch him picking lent from her clothes, and smoothing her hair, constantly pruning her like a rosebush. His obsession with her beauty was annoying.

"Actually, I'll have this one," Gwen stated in protest, as she pointed at a chocolate drizzled, high calorie, monstrosity.

She stared at Gaston in defiance as she passed the dessert menu back to the waiter. The glares between them were less like lovers and more like a showdown in a gun slinging western.

As soon as the waiter disappeared Gaston whisper/yelled at Gwen, "are you insane?!"

"I just want to do something different," Gwen explained. "We dine at the same restaurant and attend the same dull functions. I am begging you to break the monotony and have a damn dessert."

"This isn't about dessert," Gaston gathered. "What are you really trying to say?"

Gwen gave him an example, "do you order caviar every time we dine here because you truly enjoy it, or because you want everyone to know you can afford it?"

"You're asking me to eat crap food."

"I'm asking you to try something I want for once, to stop showing off and start living. I am asking you to save us."

Gaston rolled his eyes and huffed. "Poison your body with whatever you want, Gwen. I actually care about my career and our future, so I'll pass."

His implication that enjoying one measly dessert meant she didn't care about him or her career was a hard stinging slap in the face. A painful silence followed his comments, and in that meaningful silence Gwen realized she would rather die alone than have another date like this.

The server returned and set the plate before her. It looked even better than the picture. She brought the spoon to her mouth and the flavors blended together like a musical symphony. Her anger and loneliness melted away in a single bite. Even the pain in her ankle seemed to subside. This dessert wasn't just fine cuisine, it was magic. Whoever crafted this amazing dish was a magician.

"Who made this?" she questioned the waiter.

"A new employee and student from the culinary institute," the server explained. "He's assisting the pastry chef this evening."

"Would it be possible to meet him?"

"Absolutely," the waiter nodded and weaved a staggered line back to the kitchen.

The server returned shortly with Arthur. Gwen expected for him to be covered in chocolate and caramel, the way a butcher is covered in blood. To her surprise, he approached in sparkling white. The chandelier made his porcelain skin and uniform shimmer like a God.

After a brief introduction, the waiter left to fetch Gaston another bottle of wine. Arthur had never been rendered speechless in the presence of a pretty girl, but this was different. She was more than beautiful. She was familiar, like he knew her and loved her in another time.

Every man in the restaurant noticed how lovely Gwen's legs were, but only Arthur noticed the swelling and discoloration in her ankle. Having come from an area with long treacherous winters, Arthur was aware of the injuries caused by ice.

"May I?" Arthur asked.

Gwen nodded her consent. Arthur picked ice cubes from the bucket that held the wine and placed them in a cloth napkin. He gently elevated Gwen's foot and placed the ice pack on her ankle. Of course, it wasn't appropriate for Gwen to have her foot on a chair in a fancy restaurant, but Arthur was more concerned about her wellbeing than appearances.

Gaston took Gwen's hand and kissed it affectionately, as she thanked the chef in training. Gaston had never been the insecure type, but something about this encounter was making him uneasy. Gwen had a glow about her that Gaston had never seen. There was something there that wasn't there before.

Gaston transformed into the doting boyfriend to defend his territory; he even tried her dessert and commented on how delicious it was. Arthur's heart sank. Gwen was sweet and flattering to Arthur, but he knew he didn't have a chance. Not only was she taken, she was claimed by a man who could afford to give her all the fine things in life.

Gwen raised a glass full of dark wine and told Arthur, "I know you're not a waiter, but would you be a dear and fetch me another glass. This one has spots."

Arthur nodded forlornly, "of course."

There it was, a gut-punch of reality to remind Arthur that he was just the help and guys like Gaston always got the girl: boneheaded alpha male types.

It wasn't until Arthur poured out the wine that he noticed something there that wasn't there before. Gwen had swiped her thumb across her lipstick and smudged her phone number on the glass. Arthur's face split in a smile that would not leave him for a week. It was the beginning of something magical...

* * *

Gwen revived from a sedative and screamed to the heavens for anyone to help her. She screamed until her voice gave out and diminished to a painful croak. It became brutally obvious that no one was coming, and no one could hear her. But it was also obvious that her captor wasn't present. The kidnapper would have demanded silence or threatened her by now. The revelation of his absence gave her the faintest hint of relief.

The scarf covering Gwen's eyes cast her entire world into darkness. She hadn't a clue where she was. All she could tell was that she was shackled to a chair. The chains felt heavy and cold as they wrapped her tighter than a boa constrictor. They pinched her whenever she moved. Her feet and hands had gone numb from poor circulation.

Gwen expected the odors of filth and mildew that accompany being trapped in a cellar, basement, or abandoned building. Instead, what she perceived was the unmistakable smell of bleach, most likely from a floor that had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. This prison smelled sterile and clean. Another odd thing that stood out was the sound of flowing water. Where on earth was she, and why did this place feel so eerily familiar?

* * *

Classical tunes played in Arthur's ear as he waited for a customer service representative. He had called the phone company, in hope of having better luck with them than the police. Arthur was still on Gwen's mobile plan and had permission to make decisions for their account. He hoped that if he told customer service his girlfriend had lost her phone, the company would use GPS to locate it. This might give Arthur some insight as to where she might be.

Of course, Arthur's plan won't work if Adam ditched the phone, but Arthur figured there was only a slim chance that the stalker would have discarded it right away. Adam was totally obsessed, and would desire to fish through her photos, emails, and texts.

A representative with a happy childlike voice came on the line and verified Arthur's information: full name, address, security code etc.

Once verified she asked politely, "how may I help you this evening?"

To which Arthur promptly replied, "my fiancée misplaced her phone, would you be able to locate it…"

* * *

Gwen cringed at the sound of approaching footsteps. Her heart was pounding so hard the beats were thumping in her ears. Her blindfold was removed, and her eyes blinked open to find the face of the one who'd been terrorizing her…


	3. Chapter 3: The Prince Within

Chapter 3: The Prince Within

Obsession and wickedness were all that Gwen could see in his frigid expression. Those cold blue eyes put ice in her veins, and his eerie demeanor shook her to the core. He was no man, just a beast, who was wrapped in a beautiful facade.

So many questions burned in the recesses of her mind. Who on earth was he? Why had he fixated on her? What had she done to be cursed with the admiration of a monster? What unspeakable cruelty would he exact upon her?

"You don't remember me, do you?" asked the handsome blonde abductor, as he unlocked and released her from her chains.

Gwen shook her head no. The chains fell to the ground with a clang, and blood flooded back to her extremities with the sensation of a thousand stabbing needles. She was still groggy from whatever was in that syringe, and she didn't rise for fear of falling on her face.

"I brought you here because I figured it might refresh your memory," he explained.

Gwen looked around to find herself at the upscale restaurant she once frequented with Gaston, and she realized why she smelled sanitizing agents. Arthur once informed her that kitchens were thoroughly sanitized after closing hours.

The sound of flowing water was coming from the aquariums, full of live sea creatures. She took another glance at the monster who had abducted her, but still did not recognize him.

Adam sauntered before the enormous aquariums. His silhouette was eerily lit by them. "If you don't remember me, please say that you at least remember this restaurant."

"Yes of course," Gwen slurred. Her gaze left Adam and traveled to a table in the distance. "I met Arthur here."

Her answer caused his teeth to grit. She could hear his molars grinding together. His fist balled up like a reflex, but he resisted the urge to strike her.

She tried to reason with him, "if this is about money, I'll pay whatever you ask. Just let me go and promise not to harm Arthur."

He was insulted at the very implication. "This is not about money!" His sudden burst of rage made her shudder. "Do you have any idea how long I've loved you?!"

She shook her head no, not really wanting to know the answer to that question. She didn't want to know how long he'd been slinking in the shadows, how many of her private moments weren't actually private. The last thing Gwen wanted was to delve into the mind of this psychopath.

Adam confessed, "my father owned this restaurant. Though he was wealthy beyond belief, he still insisted that I start at the bottom, just as he had done. He swore earning my way through life would build character, so I took a job here. You came in regularly with some musclebound buffoon, but I was never blessed to see you sitting in my section until that snowy night. I thought I had finally gotten my chance to win your heart, but all you cared about was that imbecile who made your dessert. You never even noticed the man who was waiting on your table."

It was true. Gwen was bickering with Gaston and had not paid attention to the waiter that evening, but was that an excuse for kidnapping? Was that an excuse for stalking her, defacing her property, and making awful threats? This brute had made her life hell and he felt justified in doing so.

Gwen was fuming. "Is that why you think you own me, because I had a few plates of overpriced food at your daddy's restaurant? By your logic, I must also belong to the gentleman who does my dry cleaning, my personal trainer at the gym, hell even the barista at Starbucks can claim me."

"That's different and you know it." Adam couldn't understand how she could be so dismissive of his affection. They shared a special bond in his heart. Why couldn't Gwen see that?

Gwen demanded to know, "exactly how is this different?"

"Because we're in love." Adam planted a kiss on her bare shoulder that made her skin crawl. "I just need time to make you see it."

"Of course… all the best love stories begin with abduction and imprisonment." Gwen snarled.

She found herself wishing that she had on more clothing, anything that would provide a barrier between herself and this creep. To Gwen's misfortune, she was still dressed in the sports bra and yoga pants that she had worn to the gym. Much of her skin was exposed for Adam to violate with his bone chilling touch.

"Don't you see?" Adam questioned as he knelt before her chair, with his blue eyes burning into hers. "I can be your one true love, the darkness to your light. I am your beast."

"That's fitting because your behavior has been as unethical as a monster who would imprison an old man for picking a rose."

"Things aren't as simple as you portray them. You and I are not that simple."

"There is no you and I," Gwen tried to make him see the truth.

"We are destined for one another!"

"We are nothing to one another!" She fought to make him hear reason. "Truth be told, I never liked that story. It is not romantic for a woman to be a prisoner. I would have sliced the beast's throat in his sleep, escaped the castle and never looked back!"

Her icy words alarmed Adam to the point that he backed away in fear and repulsion. This is not the way he had pictured this moment. Adam's every thought was of Gwen and he could not understand why she didn't love him with the same ferocity.

Any other woman might have been terrified but Gwen was undaunted. She had taken enough of him thriving on her fear, dwelling in her nightmares, and tormenting her every waking moment.

He spoke in his own defense, "relationships begin in many different ways. I am certain that you will forgive me for this in time. It was arrogant of me to believe that you would surrender your heart so easily. I have a place set up for us, way out in the country, an old castle I purchased at an auction. You'll be my guest."

"You need to learn the difference between a guest and a hostage," Gwen spoke flatly. "Regardless of the bullshit that Disney sells, being trapped in a castle doesn't make it any less of a prison."

"There will be no one around to bother us, for miles and miles," Adam insisted, trying his best to persuade her to his point of view. "We'll get to know one another, and you will grow to love me in time."

"And if I do not?"

Adam pulled out a newspaper clipping of Gwen at a charity event with her little sisters by her side. Adam gave her a penetrating stare as he warned, "if you do not, I will start eliminating the distractions in your life until you do."

His threat brought tears to her eyes and they began to trickle down her cheeks. She had no way to warn the people she loved that they were in the crosshairs of a lunatic. He showed her photos taken from a distance of her parents playing tennis and her sisters on the playground of their school. He had pictures of Arthur exiting his culinary class and walking into his apartment.

"You will be mine," Adam told her.

Gwen spoke with great fortitude, "you may take this body, but I will never be yours. You will never break me. You will never bend me to your will. You might very well be a beast, but I am no fucking Belle!"

Adam's jaw clinched and the muscles in it twitched like the shank of a horse when irritated by a fly. His face grew as red as a beet and tears pricked at his eyes. It felt as if she'd reached into his chest and torn his heart out.

He drew his gun and aimed at her. "If I can't have you, no one can."

Gwen clenched her eyes and waited for the inevitable bullet that would end her life. The air was cold and sharp on her tears. Her breaths became heavy, overindulging on the only thing left to her, sweet air. Her heart raced like the hooves of a galloping horse, as if trying to fulfill a lifetime of beats in a single moment.

Vengeful stalker would not have been the avenue by which Gwen would've expected to leave this world. She'd always pictured for the end to come when she was an old lady surrounded by her family, reflecting on fond memories. Not by the hand of a mad man.

Gwen didn't have a death wish. This was more of a sacrifice. She had still been clinging to consciousness when she was stuffed into that gym bag. She had heard Adam on the phone threatening Arthur. Gwen knew that if she cooperated, Adam's jealousy would drive him to kill Arthur. Adam was willing to torture and murdered her whole family if that's what it took to mind warp Gwen into loving him.

She couldn't imagine harm coming to her mother, father, and little sisters. She would not risk something terrible happening to Arthur. Gwen did not desire to leave this world. She dreaded and feared it, but her death was the only card she had left to play. By removing the object of Adam's obsession, this would leave him with no cause to harm those dearest to her. Out of desperation and love, Gwen goaded a maniac to shoot her.

"If we can't be Beauty and the Beast, we'll just have to be Romeo and Juliet," Adam spoke with a deranged glare in his eyes."You and I will die together."

"STOP!"

Adam whipped around to find the golden hair and cerulean eyes of his nemesis.

Arthur eyed his rival, desperately wishing that life was like the movies, where only the women of ex Navy Seals and Army Rangers were abducted. Why couldn't life be like the books where the only damsels who were taken held the hearts of princes and knights with armies at their disposal. Arthur had to dig deep and find the prince within, the one brave enough to save her, even if that meant trading his life for Gwen's.

"No one has to die," Arthur pleaded. "Just let her go."

Adam laughed cruelly when he saw that Arthur was armed with just a skillet. "If a moron brings a knife to a gunfight, what does that say about the man who brings a frying pan?"

"What can I say, it's my lucky pan," Arthur stated, refusing to back down.

Adam smirked. "You're an entertaining Brit. I'll give you that."

"It took a while to place you, but I remember you now," Arthur explained. "We worked together for just a week before you quit."

"You stole my lady," Adam snapped. "She stopped eating here after she met you. I had no reason to stay. I had to come up with other creative ways to see her."

That's when it dawned on Gwen. The stalking began just after she hooked up with Arthur. She was dating a chef who could create everything on the menu at home. There was no need to dine at a restaurant that drug up unpleasant memories of her relationship with Gaston.

"How can I convince you to let her go?" Arthur beseeched the unhinged stalker.

"You can't," Adam said with an evil smile. "We have a date with destiny."

Gwen watched the encounter in terror, wishing that Arthur had not confronted an armed lunatic. Her only solace in this horrible situation was the knowledge that Arthur would be safe, and now she didn't even have that.

"I'm your true enemy," Arthur baited Adam. "I stole Guinevere from you. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me, but please let her go. She's done nothing wrong."

Adam gingerly brushed a dark curl from Gwen's face. She yanked her head sideways to free herself of his slimy touch.

Adam informed Arthur, "right now I'm torn between shooting your girlfriend and carving her like a pumpkin. What would you suggest?"

Arthur warned him with a determined stare, "I have never hurt anyone, but I swear I will end you if you harm one hair on her head."

Adam laughed without humor. "Are you threatening me with a skillet? Are all Brits as arrogant and suicidal as you? Are you insane?"

"Well you would be the expert on crazy, so I must be insane," Arthur snarled.

Those words cut Adam to the bone; he couldn't hide the fury within. He looked like he was going to explode. Arthur noticed the change in mood. Adam's confidence had been shaken. Arthur wondered why crazy people were so offended by being called crazy. It's as if they don't know they're crazy. Perhaps they live under the illusion that they are sane, and the rest of the world has gone off the deep end.

"You might want to consider another hobby, instead of insulting a man who has a pistol," Adam growled between clenched teeth.

"Perhaps I should become a kidnapper. That's much more admirable," Arthur taunted him, just hoping to redirect his rage and give Gwen an opportunity to escape.

Adam informed Arthur, "I am the author of this story, and this is how it ends. You are going to die, she is going to die, and then I am going to die."

Arthur gripped the skillet in his hand, the one he called Excalibur. He whipped the cast iron pan through the air. It barely missed Adam and struck the tank behind him.

In retaliation, Adam shot Arthur three times. It was the single longest moment of Gwen's life as she was forced to hear those awful blasts, see Arthur's chest splatter with red, and watch him drop like an anchor. Gwen was screaming, and tears were flooding down her face.

Adam kicked Arthur's unmoving body. He whispered menacingly to Gwen. His warm breath steamed her ear, "is this what you left me for, a trashy Brit, who thought he could rescue you with a pan?"

Gwen beckoned him with her finger and Adam leaned closer. He was grateful to see her warming up to him now that he'd eliminated the competition.

Gwen dried her tears and whispered in Adam's ear, "better the wife of a trashy Brit, than the hostage of a spineless coward like you."

Once again, he felt his chest tighten, like she was crushing his heart with her claws. Adam had shot the greatest rival for her affection and Gwen still would not submit to him.

Feeling desperate and out of options, Adam turned the gun on her. "Goodbye Beauty…"

Gwen heard the blast but did not feel the bullet. She was snatched from its path.

Arthur dove behind the bar with his girlfriend, as a storm of bullets sailed around them. Gwen was speechless and in shock, she could have sworn she saw him die.

Arthur knocked on his chest, which made a hollow metallic bing. "My lucky pan has a lid."

Gwen embraced him with tears of happiness, grateful for just a few more seconds with him.

Adam knelt to swipe his fingers across the red stained carpet. He smelled his fingertips, "ketchup packets. Bravo, very clever, but this story still ends the same way."

A cracking sound alerted Adam. He turned around to find that Arthur had not missed when he hurled the frying pan. It met its mark: the only tank labeled _Fish NOT for Human Consumption_ , awall sized electric eel aquarium. The crack Arthur made had spread over the glass like a winter's frost. Countless gallons of water exploded forth. The pressure knocked Adam end over end.

The Beast found himself tangled in creatures the size of pythons and they were shocking the life out of him. The strike of the eels was not only excruciating, it was affecting Adam's breathing, suffocating him. The shocks were upsetting the rhythm of his heart, until it ceased to beat altogether…

Arthur embraced his girlfriend and vowed to never again allow anything to come between them. Gwen told him the same. She longed to ride off into the sunset with her hero, but their triumph was short lived.

Gwen collapsed in Arthur's arms without any discernible cause. Her sun kissed skin became pale and blue. Her chest did not rise and fall with breath. Arthur filled his lungs with air and blew into her mouth. He pressed on her chest in a frantic attempt to make her breathe on her own.

Adam did not have access to real anesthesia, so he'd used black market horse tranquilizers to subdue Gwen. The stalker had unwittingly dosed her with a drug that was killing her…


	4. Chapter 4: Happily Never After

Chapter 4: Happily Never After

EMTs fought to save Gwen, who was having a deadly reaction to the sedative Adam had injected her with. The next five minutes whirled by in a blur of flashing lights and screeching sirens for Arthur.

Paramedics were trying to treat him, but he kept swatting them away. He yelled at them to devote all their resources to saving his girlfriend.

Arthur rode in the ambulance as they raced to the hospital. He couldn't fully understand the medical jargon that the paramedics were pitching back and forth, but he knew that the charging of a defibrillator never meant anything good. Her shirt was cut off with scissors. They placed one pad just below her collar bone and the other at her side.

Her chest jumped with the force of the electric charge that was delivered, but it didn't seem to be helping. They added meds to an IV that fed into her arm. They continued to deliver bolts of electricity. None of it seemed to matter. Arthur could not believe that after all they had been through, he was going to lose her.

Her gurney was unloaded from the back of the ambulance. Doctors and nurses rushed out to meet the paramedics. There was more tossing back and forth of Latin and Greek as they rolled Gwen into the hospital. He asked questions in a state of utter panic but received answers with no real clarity.

Arthur chased after the gurney that was speeding down the fluorescently lit halls. Every step he took felt like he was running a marathon in quarter ton boots. Pain consumed his chest and abdomen, but he continued to push himself forward. He was wheezing for air and fighting to keep up with the gurney that was getting away from him.

Before long, Arthur had breached a set of double doors he was not allowed to cross. They ushered him out of this restricted area. The world began to spin, a blinding blur of florescent lights and faces. He collapsed in the arms of the nurses. With adrenaline fading, it became clear that Arthur was in serious trouble.

Soon he was on his own gurney. The nurses cut off his shirt and sliced off the iron lid that covered his chest. He was one giant purple bruise beneath. Arthur looked like a plum with legs. The iron lid had saved his life by stopping the bullets, but it was no Kevlar vest. It deflected the bullets but did little to absorb the shock of being blasted with high velocity rounds.

In the movies a bullet could be stopped by little more than the hero's dog tags, as his muscles flex beneath a ripped shirt, and his fabulous hair flutters in the breeze. Catching a bullet would have absolutely no effect on the good guy. It wouldn't even leave a mark.

In the real world the laws of physics apply. Arthur had broken ribs, it was difficult to breath, and blood was pooling under his skin. When the doctor flashed a light in Arthur's eyes this showed how unevenly dilated his pupils were. This was a sign of a possible concussion. When Arthur and Gwen had leapt behind the bar he'd struck his head on something. His body was so heavily saturated with adrenaline that he didn't notice at the time.

Arthur was sluggishly shoving the doctors away, speaking gibberish, and trying to return to his girlfriend. Medical personnel continued to treat Arthur, despite his delirious protests. They were used to such behavior from mothers who were in collisions with their children in the back seat, and husbands who were in the wake of a natural disaster with their wives. It is the human heart that makes us lose sight of self-preservation when loved ones are at risk. Therefore, the doctors must step in and treat people who lacks concern for themselves.

They took him for x-rays, scans, and bloodwork. A few stitches closed the gash in his scalp, and nurses monitored his concussion. They would tell him about Gwen when he was well, but now was not the time.

* * *

Arthur was covered in cold white hospital sheets and a poor excuse for a blanket. Part of him wondered why no one had brought news of his girlfriend's condition, while another part wondered why hospitals were always so freezing cold. It felt like he was in a drawer at the morgue rather than a bed.

He was given medication to take the edge off his pain. An IV drip provided hydration. He was instructed to rest but wanted out of this bed. He needed to see Gwen. Arthur had seen how bad things were in the ambulance, but some irrational part of him was still hoping for a storybook ending. He'd slain the dragon and rescued the damsel. That meant she had to survive. After all this suffering, a long happy life together was the only ending that made sense to Arthur.

He pushed the call button on his remote. He wasn't Gwen's husband, but he was her emergency contact. That should grant him some information.

A nurse entered fifteen minutes later, an older woman with a pleasant smile. She asked if he was hungry and if she could do anything to make him more comfortable.

Arthur promptly asked the same question he'd been asking for days, "have you heard any news about my girlfriend?"

The nurse's mouth said that she hadn't heard anything new, but her body language told him that she knew everything. Either she did not have the liberty to talk to him or did not want the burden of bearing bad news. Arthur could only hope that her silence was for sake of protocol, and not for a reason that he should worry about.

"I'll send her doctor this way," the nurse assured him.

It was the longest time of Arthur's life as he waited for that doctor. Every minute was stretched into an hour of its own, a stressful, nail biting, hour. Only two of those physics defying minutes had passed. He hadn't a clue how many more he would endure before he could hear that Gwen was okay and that he could visit her now.

Arthur wished that he had flowers to bring her, so that she would have something beautiful to look at when she opened her eyes. Determined to save the moment, he folded an origami rose from two medical documents.

The doctor walked in after twenty excruciating minutes. Arthur could tell from the physician's countenance and the manner in which he apologized that this would be no fairytale ending. This was a happily never after…

* * *

Arthur was released from the hospital after five days. He wasn't in perfect condition, but time and opiates would heal the rest. Much was still a shock to him. He had been numb up to the point that he turned the key to his apartment and stepped inside. Every sight, smell and sound wounded him, like standing before a firing squad.

Arthur walked back to his bedroom in desperate need to rest in his own bed. He dropped a plastic sack on the dresser. It contained his personal effects, all but the iron skillet that was collected as evidence.

Arthur crawled into bed, still wearing a plastic bracelet from the hospital. His parents were flying in to care for him. They would be arriving tomorrow morning. He rested his head upon the pillow and a burst of Gwen's perfume was released. The sweet aroma was like a serrated blade to the heart. Tears seeped from the creases of his closed eyes and ran back into his ears. Arthur rolled onto his side, nostalgically rubbing her empty side of the bed, wishing she was there to warm it. He recalled every steamy night and tender moment in vivid detail. The cold sheets and solitude proved too much. He could not find peace in this bedroom without her.

He walked to the living room and sat on the couch, flooded by the same sorrow when he found her lacy garter belt tucked between the cushions. As he recalled the day she wore it and how it ended up there, it was just too much to bear. There was nowhere to run. Every corner of his home was a painful reminder.

Defeated, he lowered to the floor and stumbled upon a popcorn kernel that had survived his rigorous cleaning. The smell of buttery popcorn would forever remind him of their first confessions of love. Arthur crushed the brittle kernel in his fist, realizing that love was equally fragile.

He allowed his tears to seep into the carpet as he tried to imagine a world without Gwen's beautiful laugh, caring nature, and feisty spirit. Such a future was impossible to picture…

* * *

Yawning and stretching, Arthur fought to keep his eyes open as he sat at the airport with his parents. He hadn't been blessed with a full night's sleep in quite some time. Travelers were passing by with luggage and strollers, flying to unknown destinations.

Enticing aromas were wafting from the food court but Arthur still hadn't regained his appetite. He'd lost seven pounds and if not for his parents he would have lost more. Arthur had initially been furious to find out that the hospital had called his folks. He had expected his mom and dad to pull the typical crap that overbearing religious people do: make a bad situation worse by throwing around clichés like everything happens for a reason, it's all part of God's plan and the ridiculous list goes on.

Another trait he found annoying about overzealous religious people was the ever present need to blame the victim. No matter the circumstances they would perform any level of mental gymnastics in order to make this so. If they were present while police shot their neighbor's two year old toddler, they would be wiping blood and brain matter from their faces while telling the news cameras that little Susie had it coming. She shouldn't have thrown her rattle at the police. Kids these days don't respect authority and if anyone is to blame it's the bereaved parents for not taking the child to church more.

Arthur had expected his folks to do the typical religious nonsense of exploiting a tragedy to peddle Jesus like bootleg Rolexes. He'd witnessed this shameless exploitation at funerals so often that he no longer attended them.

These were all reasonable assumptions. In the past, Arthur hadn't been able to ink his own skin without his father providing his unsolicited opinion and expressing his disapproval. At times they ridiculed him about his choices in life.

Arthur was pleasantly surprised when his mother and father committed none of these shameless acts. There were no clichés, no blaming and shaming, no pressure for him to go to church more, no lectures on the value of persistent prayer. Their only concern was their son. Arthur had their full support from the moment they'd arrived. They took care of him until he reached a full recovery. Arthur was sad to be sitting at the bustling airport, soon to bid farewell.

"I'd feel much better if you returned to England with us," his mother said as she awaited her flight. "I have your old bedroom ready."

His father backed her, "some crazy man tried to kill my son, and he's still out there."

"That's why I must stay," Arthur explained, "to testify against him, and make certain that he will never hurt anyone again. Adam isn't roaming free. He's in prison awaiting trial. I can't deny the irony. The electric shock of an eel killed him, but the electric shock of a defibrillator brought him back to life. It's so unfair. He should be dead."

Arthur's parents embraced him as tears pooled in his eyes. There were no judgmental lectures about turning the other cheek, or vengeance belonging to their Lord and savior. There was only love.

* * *

The prison cafeteria was crowded and noisy. Adam sat at a table forcing down terrible food and watered-down orange juice. The eggs were slimy, and the bacon tasted like cardboard. This slop was a far cry from the upscale cuisine of the five star restaurant he'd inherited.

He contemplated every step of the terrible path that brought him here: selfishness, arrogance, and obsession. He really didn't see the point of a trial. It would only delay the inevitable. He was never going to leave this place. Adam had accepted this gloomy fate and pled guilty, but his lawyers had him declared incompetent. The trial would go on as scheduled.

Four inmates, with tattoos of snarling wolves, sauntered through the mess hall. A sudden hush swept over the crowd. Prisoners parted like the Red Sea, as the Wolfpack ventured forward. They were the most ruthless prison gang in Europe. They killed without reason or mercy.

The alfa wolf was Cas, a manipulative smooth talker, with white blonde hair, and stormy gray eyes. Rome and Tris were crimson haired twins, identical in appearance and ferocious temper. Lance possessed midnight curls; the press had nicknamed him Slugger for his propensity to beat people to death with a baseball bat.

Adam looked up from his meal and addressed the musclebound giants, "you're looking well brothers." These weren't blood relatives, just a rowdy bunch that he grew up with.

Tris grabbed Adam's arm and found that there was just a light shadow where a tattoo used to be. He slammed Adam's arm on the table and growled at him, "you are no longer one of us! How dare you call us brothers?!"

"My father had it removed," Adam explained.

"This fucking Judas was never one of us!" Lance snapped.

Rome demanded, "give me one reason not to cut out your traitorous tongue with this spork."

"I was a fourteen year old kid who didn't realize that I was getting anyone in trouble," Adam spoke in his own defense.

Cas, the alpha, never raised his voice; he gave an amused smile. "We all took oaths of secrecy for a reason, little brother. You broke yours, and there will be consequences."

Without warning, Lance grabbed a fist full of Adam's hair, and slammed his face down on the metal tray. Adam struggled vigorously against the brutes who were holding him down. One side of his face was in Lance's claws and the other side was submerged in oatmeal and eggs.

Cas sat next to Adam and whispered menacingly, "you will know pain, Adam, agony beyond your most horrific nightmares."


	5. Chapter 5: When the Wolves Descend

**Author's Note: This story is only seven chapters long so I was going to post the whole thing and complete it today. Also, for those who are not previously acquainted with me, I write romantic suspense, full of plot twists and irorny. Nothing is ever as it seems so trust me and see the stories through to the end. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! :^)**

 **-Embrasia**

Chapter 5: When the Wolves Descend

"Break it up!" yelled a dark haired prison guard, named Gwaine.

The Wolfpack calmly backed away while warning Adam to watch his back.

"To the infirmary with you," Gwaine ordered Adam, who looked down to find blood in his breakfast.

There was a cut on his scalp that needed to be closed with a few stitches. Adam knew that the Wolfpack had no intention of killing him quickly, this was only the first of many wounds he would endure.

Adam had removed his prison shirt to use it as a towel. He cleaned the food from his face, then balled up the shirt and pressed it against his head to stop the bleeding.

He awaited the physician, becoming less patient by the minute. He'd become accustomed to concierge medicine. His father would have doctors treat him for sports related injuries right in their mansion. Now he was forced to settle for second rate prison care and had to wait a long time for it too. The prison doctor wasn't ignoring him, but there were patients with more serious injuries that took priority.

A breathtaking brunette, with large chocolate brown eyes, entered the infirmary. She was wearing soft yellow scrubs, and a stethoscope hung from her graceful neck. There was a small tattoo of a rose on the inside of her wrist. Her name was Dr. Belleza, in English it translated to beauty.

"Well if it isn't the least useful doctor ever," Adam snapped at the psychiatrist who had declared him legally incompetent.

Dr. Belleza wasn't shaken by his prickly demeanor. She knew that people say a lot of things in anger, and it's our choice whether or not to listen. Adam was insufferable at times, but she was no less committed to helping him.

She gave Adam a blinding white smile. "I see you're making friends already. Who gave you the love tap?"

"Ha ha, very funny. I suppose you're a shrink and a comedian."

"Just a shrink," she assured him. "In all seriousness, should I be filing a report against someone?"

"That'll only get me killed."

Dr. Belleza sighed, knowing that she could not force him to talk. "I stopped by to adjust the dosage levels of your meds. I'll be out of your way shortly."

He turned crimson with anger and rose from the bed. He stormed in her direction like a raging animal. "I never asked to be doped with whatever poison you're prescribing!"

This beauty of a doctor stood undaunted before the furious beast that was huffing and puffing in her face.

"I never asked for your medical opinion," she spoke calmly. "I'm sure it was freeing to go through life oblivious to the pain of others, to intimidate, hurt, and take as you please. So now you're throwing a tantrum because feelings are scary. Feelings suck. Welcome to manhood. I will continue to decide what is best because you are the patient and I am the only doctor in this room."

"As long as I've been waiting, you might be the only doctor in the whole damn prison!" Adam stomped back to the bed and regained his lying position. "Can you make yourself useful and stitch me up?"

"I'm a psychiatrist."

"Which means you've gone to medical school. I believe they teach such things." He rolled his eyes. It was clear that he found her infuriating.

"I'm not going to give you stiches, Adam. That's not my job. The world revolves around the sun, not you, my narcissistic friend. You'll just have to wait your turn."

She was about to leave to conduct other business when he stopped her.

"Please," he asked begrudgingly. "I've been here for six hours."

"I haven't done this since my residency," she explained.

He swallowed his pride and reasoned with her, "they don't need to be perfect. They just need to cease the bleeding."

Dr. Belleza grabbed a suture kit and gloved up. She pulled a circular lamp down closer to his head, so that she could see better. She thoroughly cleaned and medicated the area to prevent him from getting an infection.

Dr. Belleza gave him an injection to numb the cut and went to work. She pierced his skin, pulled the thread through, and tied it with a looping motion. With a quick snip of the thread she was on to the next stitch, a little amazed at how much her hands remembered.

"Did you always want to be a psychiatrist?" he asked.

"What's wrong with being a psychiatrist?"

"Nothing," he smirked. "I was just wondering if you always desired to be one."

"I wanted to be an astronaut as a kid," she answered honestly. "The field of psychiatry didn't peak my interest until I was around fourteen."

"Why be a shrink, Clarice? Did you watch _Silence of the Lambs_ and find it life changing?"

She laughed, and the sound was as enchanting and beautiful as a bell. "I love that movie, but that's not why I chose this field."

They laughingly quoted Buffalo Bill in unison, "it puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again."

Her smile faded, and her expression became troubled as she reflected on her decision to become a doctor.

"You don't have to answer me," he insisted. "I was just trying to make conversation, you know, work on my social skills."

"You answered a hundred questions you didn't feel comfortable with during my evaluation. It's only fair that I answer one." She confessed, "at the age of fourteen I lost my older brother to suicide. The experience crushed me with a pain that would never fully go away, but it also drove me to help people who are suffering from mental illness. Studying and treating such ailments became my life's work."

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"

"It's alright," she assured him, "but now you owe me an answer."

"I never wet the bed and I'm not obsessed with my mommy," Adam said with a tone that was dripping with sarcasm.

Her glorious laugh returned, and he shut his eyes to tune out everything but the sound of it. She finished stitching him, cleaned up her work space and discarded the dirty gloves.

Dr. Belleza couldn't help but ask, "why did you trust me to treat your scalp wound when you know this isn't my specialty?"

"For the same reason you chose to hand deliver prescriptions you could have simply called in or faxed." With a devilish grin, he reminded her, "I'm crazy, not stupid."

They gazed into one another's eyes for an inappropriate length of time. Her sights traveled to his chest and abs, left completely bare. She could not help but contemplate the pleasure of running her tongue along the ridges and valleys of his muscles. Feeling the warm wet grainy sensation of his tongue tracing her neck, as he made passionate love to her, sending ripples of pleasure throughout her body.

She dutifully returned her gaze to his face. He was attractive. There was no denying that, but he was also her patient. She had a responsibility to see to his needs, even if that meant ignoring her own.

Dr. Belleza finally stammered, "I… well… I check on all my patients."

"Of course," he spoke, a little defeated, and a lot embarrassed. "I'm sure you've learned from my medical records that I often misread the intentions of others. I'm sorry if I implied…"

"It's alright," she assured him. It aggravated her to be attracted to someone who was so stubborn and spoiled. They had been locking horns since the day they met, but there were moments when she would rather be fighting with Adam than talking with anyone else.

She called over her shoulder, "take care of yourself, Adam."

"You too, Dr. Belleza."

Adam watched her leave and he pondered how he could be attracted to someone who irritated him so much. She was a know it all bookworm, who wouldn't know fun if it bit her in the butt. Yet a room never felt quite as warm after she left it.

* * *

Adam returned to his cell, not surprised to find one of the wolves inside. It was Rome, one of the red-haired twins. Adam knew that fighting him would only bring on the wrath of the other three.

Filing an official complaint might fall on deaf ears and pose even greater risk to his life. If word got out that Adam was a snitch, it wouldn't just be the four wolves he had to worry about, but the entire prison population. For these reasons Adam chose diplomacy, over aggression. He just had to survive for long enough for his lawyers to push a transfer through.

Adam reasoned with the wolf, "we were like brothers once. There must be a way to end this vendetta without bloodshed."

"I wish there was," Rome confessed, "but that doesn't change what you did. We were all nearly killed because you couldn't keep your mouth shut." Rome raised his shirt to reveal a scar from an organ transplant. "If I didn't have a twin I'd be dead."

"I am sorry for what happened to you, but killing each other won't change it," Adam insisted. "Don't you ever grow tired of killing?"

Rome shook his head no, "that's where you and I differ."

"I don't believe we're so different."

"That's where you're wrong, Adam."

The wolf held up a picture of Arthur. "You have one photo in your possession and it's of a man. I always figured you were one with peculiar tastes."

"That's not what you think," Adam snapped. "I don't even like him, but his face is a reminder of what happens when I lose control. I don't want to hurt people anymore."

"I don't give a shit what your relationship is with this man," Rome snarled bitterly. "If this is the only photo you have, then he's important. I don't care if it takes me a hundred years to leave this cage, once I do I am coming after this guy, and then I'm coming after you."

Just like that, Arthur had been unwittingly hurled into the center of a blood feud. This vendetta had carried on for so long and gathered weight and momentum with each passing year, like a snowball rolling downhill. The malicious wolf left Adam's cell with Arthur's photo in his claws. The Wolfpack was determined to have their revenge on Adam, even if they had to kill Arthur to get it…

* * *

Over the next few weeks tensions mounted between Adam and the Wolfpack. He had offered to add money to their prison accounts monthly, but nothing sated their fury. They made it crystal clear that all they desired was his blood.

Adam's lawyers got involved. He sat before the panel of three. One was an older gentleman named Cogsworth, a fierce litigator with a no bullshit attitude. The other two attorneys were Morgana and Morgause, attractive but ferocious ladies.

Cogsworth informed Adam, "we got you approved for a transfer."

"How," Adam questioned in total bewilderment. "The warden swore that he never grants transfers, ever."

"Then it's a good thing that the warden likes to cheat on his wife," Morgana said with a wicked smirk and an expensive camera in her grasp.

Morgause passed Adam a few scandalous photos that she would use to remind the warden of what will happen if he goes back on his word.

Cogsworth felt the need to warn Adam, "your transfer to another prison is scheduled for the first of the month. The only way we could keep you alive until then was to have you placed in solitary confinement. You'll be cut off from all human contact, trapped in a cell that's smaller than a horse stable. This may sound simple but it's hard on the mind. People begin to hallucinate and have panic attacks. Once released you could suffer hypersensitivity to stimuli for weeks. It is called the pit of despair for a reason."

"I can handle it," Adam assured them. "When do I go?"

"Today," said Cogsworth.

Adam swallowed hard. If he was going into solitary from now until his transfer, he was not sure when or even if he would see Dr. Belleza again.

"Thank you, truly," Adam told his lawyers with a distraught expression. "I… I need to make a phone call." He signaled a guard, who led him away.

Adam waited at the end of a very long line of prisoners to use the payphone. The line stretched all the way down the hall and bent the corner, where it extended all the way down another hall. Even the smallest things that he once took for granted required so much effort here.

Adam hadn't been allowed to keep any of his fancy gadgets, fine clothes, or dignity for that matter. Upon arrival, he was stripped, and cavity searched. He shared a shower with a myriad of men, some of whom were eyeing him in a creepy and lustful manner.

The medications prescribed by Dr. Belleza were beginning to make Adam ask questions he'd never considered. Is this what Gwen felt like? Was she in a constant state of fear, never having a moment's rest for sake of looking over her shoulder? How could I have done this to another person?

Adam hated those pills; they were like a conscience in a bottle, a magnifying glass through which to see the thoughts and feelings of others. He often wondered, how humans survive with this endless concern for the welfare of other people. It was maddening, and he wasn't sure if he would ever get used to it.

An inmate hung up the phone, which sent a ripple effect down the line. This allowed Adam to move forward just a couple of feet. Now he waited some more, fully aware that he would spend eternity in this line. He wasn't sure if Dr. Belleza would even care that he was leaving, but he had to say goodbye, even if it took all night to do so.

* * *

Arthur's culinary professors were surprisingly supportive. They told him to take the year off and they would reenroll him with the next class of incoming students. He passed on the offer. Arthur was not going to allow Adam to throw him a year behind in school. The beast had already taken far too much from him. Arthur was determined to graduate, even if he had to pull double the workload to catch up.

He entered class to a roar of applause. He was completely caught off guard. Arthur had expected to slip into class quietly and unnoticed, as he had done from the beginning. He was embarrassed when a welcome back banner flipped down from the ceiling.

There were lots of consoling pats on the back. Even more cards and condolences. A female student passed him notes from the classes he had missed. Every apprentice chef from the usually competitive class was rooting for him. They were not going to let him fail, even if that meant helping him get caught up.

"Where is lucky pan," asked the professor. "Everyone was expecting to see it."

Arthur laughed for the first time since the whole ordeal. "The police confiscated Excalibur. Lucky pan is evidence in a trial."

There were some disappointed sighs that lifted after Arthur promised to bring Excalibur at a later date. Only culinary artists would consider a pan to be the true hero of the story. Arthur smiled at the peculiar revelation. He had to admit that it was nice to be a part of something again. Arthur kissed the romantic engraving on the handle of his knife and carried on with what he did best.

* * *

All hell was breaking loose in the prison. Dr. Belleza barricaded the door to the infirmary. She didn't know what started the riot. All she knew was that the infirmary was a dangerous place to be during an uprising. There were drugs in the clinic and prisoners would come in search of them. Narcotics were a form of currency in a place where people tried to escape by any means.

If a gang of out of control men with a mob mindset stumbled upon Dr. Belleza this would be a catastrophe. She was in terrible danger and still she found herself worrying about Adam. She hoped that he would be able to find a safe place to hide and wait out the storm.

There was a single monitor in the infirmary. It captured eight views of the prison. She could see a full-blown melee on every block, inmates were running amuck in every corridor. The guards sprayed them with rubber bullets and fogged them with tear gas. These tactics were enough to quench a small uprising but not a riot of this caliber.

Far outnumbered, the guards were forced to retreat to their secure hub before they could reach her. They did the only thing they could for now, lock the place down and radio for reinforcements. An eerie feeling swept over the doctor as she realized no one was coming to rescue her, at least not for a while.

There was an elevator in the back of the infirmary. It provided paramedics a fast route to severely injured prisoners, those who had to be rushed to the nearest hospital. Dr. Belleza kept punching the buttons on the emergency elevator, but it could only be operated with a key.

Thunderous banging alerted her. The inmates had arrived, and they were trying to force their way in. She backed away, in search of anything she could use to defend herself. These were no ordinary prisoners, but the worst four of all: a malicious and blood thirsty Wolfpack…

* * *

The atmosphere was so thick with teargas that Adam could barely breath. His eyes and nose were running. The toxin smelled like death and burned like acid. The prison was so overrun with chaos that guys Adam didn't even know were coming at him for a fight. He was forced to punch them out or otherwise subdue them on his quest to save the doctor.

He could make out scattered bits of conversation through radio static. Most of it was spoken in a coded manner that only the guards could decipher. The only bit that Adam understood was that Dr. Belleza was trapped in the infirmary. Vicious wolves were trying to devour his beauty.

Gwaine, the guard who had saved Adam in the cafeteria, lie injured in the corridor. He suffered from a compound fracture of the leg. A jagged white bone covered in blood pierced through his skin. Bone fragments had cut an artery causing him to hemorrhage. Gwaine kept pushing the button on the radio, that was attached to his shoulder; he was calling into the receiver for help that would never come.

Adam slipped as he ran through blood splattered halls. He collided with the floor, putting him eye to eye with Gwaine.

"Help me," Gwaine pleaded. "I have a son. I have a wife."

There were inmates already trying to kill Adam. The last thing he needed was to paint a big red target on his back by colluding with a guard. Adam would be dead before he ever made it to the doctor.

"I'm sorry. I must save Dr. Belleza." Adam braced the wall and pulled himself up.

He ventured forward on his mission to rescue her. As he abandoned the guard and left him to die a strange new feeling swept over Adam. He could not name the emotion, but it was an awful feeling that tore at the pit of his soul. He felt sick to his stomach.

Adam made an about face and ran back for the guard. He yanked off the man's radio and tied the coiled cord around his leg to stop the bleeding.

"Thank you." Gwaine confessed, "for a moment I thought you were going to leave me for dead."

"The old me would have," Adam admitted. "I need your baton."

Normally a guard would never surrender his weapons to a convict, but they weren't going to survive unless they trusted one another. Adam threw Gwaine's arm over his shoulder and helped him hobble down the hall. Adam used the baton to swat off enraged prisoners, while Gwaine sprayed them in the eyes with mace.

At last they made it to the guard's command post. Adam had helped Gwaine, so the guard was determined to repay the favor.

Gwaine passed him a blood soaked key and whispered, "this key operates the emergency elevator, which leads straight into the infirmary. Climb in with Dr. Belleza and hit the emergency stop button. When reinforcements arrive, I will send them your way."

Adam thanked him, and Gwaine did the same. Adam backed away so that Gwaine's comrades would open the door. They snatched Gwaine in to safety. Another strange new feeling fluttered in Adam's chest, but this time it was a good one: the joy that comes from helping another person. A young man would go home to his wife and child, instead of becoming a photo in the obituaries.

* * *

Adam popped out of the elevator. He and the doctor embraced one another, both ecstatic and relieved to see the other alive. Before they could escape into the elevator they were taken down by rubber bullets. The Wolfpack had crashed into the infirmary with weapons they'd confiscated from fallen guards. Dizzy and in a great deal of pain, Adam and Dr. Belleza climbed to their feet. They were surrounded by wolves who were eying her in a way that made her skin crawl.

"Walk away, Adam," said Lance. "We haven't had a piece that fine in five to ten years."

Cas agreed, "you were looking for a way to square your debt without bloodshed. Well here it is. Just leave… or take a turn for all I care, but don't stand in our way."

"Come on," said Rome. "Brothers share."

Dr. Belleza stood horrified by these malicious wolves who were trying to divide her amongst themselves like a freshly slain deer.

Adam instinctively reached for her hand. "You'll kill her."

Tris shook his head no, "just a bit of fun, strictly catch and release."

Adam flicked the telescoping baton to full length, a blatant refusal to allow them to harm her. Proof that he might very well be a beast, but he was her beast. The wolves began to circle their prey. With one howl from their alfa, they all pounced at once.

The next ten minutes whirled by in a blur of vicious strikes and bloodshed. Dr. Belleza and her beast fought off the ferocious Wolfpack. She was batting them away with a broomstick while Adam engaged in one battle after another. The wolves were greater in strength and number, but Adam possessed something they did not: the will of a man who was protecting what was most precious to him.

Adam took them all down but not without great injury to himself; he collapsed in the arms of his beauty. He had many wounds, but the worst one was caused by the shiv he'd taken to the chest. She pressed her hands over the injury, desperate to save the only man who had ever bled for her…


	6. Chapter 6: The Last Petal

Chapter 6: The Last Petal

Under normal circumstances men die from such injuries, but Adam possessed the will of a beast. It was a slow painful recovery, but he bounced back from his deadly wound and went to court.

In many ways, the trial was worse than the stabbing. It was brutal for Adam to hear what he'd done and face the man he'd hurt. The prosecution had said Adam was beyond help, but Dr. Belleza's medical opinion proved contradictory to their claims. The young guard Adam rescued testified as a character witness. After much deliberation, the court decided Adam belonged under close supervision, in a psychiatric facility.

Arthur was inconsolable. The verdict was devastating. How was this justice? How could they let this monster go after all the suffering he had caused?

After the trial, Adam became a resident of the psych ward that Dr. Belleza ran. Though people considered him a beast, Dr. Belleza felt that every patient was worth saving. At the moment, there was a detective impatiently pacing the floor of her office, itching to send Adam to prison to serve his full sentence.

The gray-haired detective, named Aredian, hissed, "Adam is no more than a wicked beast wearing the mask of a prince."

"What makes you certain he isn't a prince wearing the mask of a beast?" she questioned in defense of her patient. "People hide their true selves for many reasons. Grant me the time to get to the root of those reasons."

"He flashed his big blue eyes at you and now you're wrapped around his evil finger."

"It isn't like that," she swore. "It is my professional opinion that this man can and should be rehabilitated."

Detective Aredian sighed with frustration. "I hope you are a better doctor than gardener because your plants are in appalling condition."

The doctor looked around at an office full of neglected flowers. There were brown leaves and petrified stems at every turn. The small rosebush on her desk looked like hell. There was a single rose left standing and it had lost most of its petals.

"My patients keep me very busy," the doctor explained. "But my mother happens to be a florist, so she keeps sending me these poor victims. Being a psychiatrist is the only thing I've ever been good at. Please give me just a little more time with Adam."

The stern and orderly detective shook his head no. "Willingly taking medication and regular counseling are just two of the requirements of his stay. If Adam does not cooperate he goes to real prison for twenty-five years." The detective smiled brightly as he pulled out his handcuffs. "The records show that he hasn't been cooperating."

Dr. Belleza blocked the door, before the cop could arrest her patient. "The man saved my life. I know there's more to him than the monster he parades before the world."

"One benevolent act does not make up for a life of treachery."

"Give me more time… just a month."

"I won't give you a month," said Detective Aredian. "But you're in luck because, unlike you, I happen to be an excellent gardener. I can tell that sad little rosebush only has a week to live. I will stop by to check on it every day, and I'll give Adam until the last petal falls."

Dr. Belleza graciously thanked the detective and showed him out. She slumped in her chair with the knowledge that if someone had helped her brother, he might still be alive. She refused to have such a tragedy devastate another family. She was unsure how she would save her most stubborn patient in only a weeks' time, but she had never been one to back down from a challenge.

The detective had been right. By week's end that rose was clinging to its last petal and the orderlies and nurses had made no progress with Adam. Dr. Belleza was racing through the halls to get to him. Her mahogany hair fell from the bun with the speed of her gait. The detective was coming to arrest him. This was her last chance to make a difference, her last opportunity to save a man, the very last petal.

A large, burly, orderly in a white uniform stepped into Adam's room. "What's on the menu today, Adam, pills down the throat or shots in the ass? It makes no difference to me."

Adam knew exactly how this encounter would end, just as the last sixty did, with a bunch of painful injections to his rear. This knowledge did not stop him from taking a swing at the orderly. Two male nurses jumped into the fray. Adam was fighting all three, until their combined strength eventually overpowered him. One was uncapping a needle to puncture his skin when the doctor yelled for them to stop. They looked up to find their boss, and she was furious.

The large orderly explained as Adam continued to struggle and growl, "I was just trying to give him meds and he threw a punch at me!"

One of the male nurses agreed. "He's a goddamn animal!"

"A beast!" yelled the second nurse.

Dr. Belleza informed them, "forcing medication on him will not help. He has to take it himself or he'll go to prison."

"Perhaps a cage is where he belongs," the orderly said as he prepared to sedate Adam.

"Don't," said Dr. Belleza.

"It's for your protection," the orderly explained.

The psychiatrist assured them, "I can take care of myself. Please leave us."

The men were uncomfortable with her orders but obeyed them. Dr. Belleza sat on the bed with Adam. He stared at the small cup of pills in her hand with distrust

Desperation entered her voice and tears filled her eyes. "Do you remember what I said about the rose in my office?" He nodded solemnly, and she went on to say, "it's on its last petal. That detective is on his way to arrest you. Adam, you could die in prison."

He didn't even flinch, and she realized why he was being uncooperative. Of course, part of it was because he was a paranoid mental patient who thought they were poisoning him. But most of it was because he felt he deserved to go to prison after what he'd done to Gwen and Arthur. His only response to the doctor's words was a single glistening teardrop trickling down his cheek.

Dr. Belleza confessed, "I don't feel that you deserve to rot in a cage any more than a heart attack patient that runs his car into a crowd. There are times when an illness can cause someone to hurt others. Every part of a body can get sick, this includes the brain. Allow me to help you."

"Gwen was right," he concluded. "I am broken, damaged, a beast."

"A beast would not have pled guilty to prevent the disgrace of his deceased father, and to spare Arthur the pain and trauma of being dragged through a trial. A beast would not have risked his life to save a prison guard. A beast wouldn't have fought his way through miles of dangerous convicts to rescue me. Facing one's demons is ugly and painful, but it isn't the end of the world," she assured him. "You can still have a life after treatment."

"What kind of life would I have without love? Do you believe any woman capable of loving a beast?"

"If he's a beast who longs to be a man." Doctor Belleza placed a gentle hand upon his and this simple contact made fire sweep through his soul. He could not deny that she had a hold on him.

She drew her hand back in defeat as the detective arrived to haul Adam off to an unimaginable fate. Her very soul felt heavy, like she was dragging around an anvil. All her hard work had failed to reach him.

Before the cop could get the cuffs on him, Adam snatched the pills from Dr. Belleza and swallowed them. Adam did not fear prison, but what he did fear was never seeing her again. He could not imagine a world without her beautiful laughter and genuine kindness.

"Well I'll be darned," the detective said with a hearty chuckle. "I have officially seen it all."

Dr. Belleza gave the detective a blinding smile and took Adam to counseling. She shook her head with amusement as they entered her office. The last petal had fallen on the soil. She had saved him just in time. Adam kicked back on the couch, sinking into the soft pillows.

She warned him, "I've heard that you are placing several phone calls a week in regard to your restaurant. If you're ever going to be released from here, you must stop worrying about this business and start worrying about yourself."

"I can't allow it to fail. It's my father's legacy."

"You are your father's legacy," Dr. Belleza corrected him. "If you want to honor your father you should put forth the effort to get better. You can start with this."

She walked over and handed him a leather-bound journal and a pencil.

He smiled for the first time since he'd entered the asylum. "What am I supposed to write in this?"

"The truth."

* * *

Arthur sat at a table across from the last man he ever wanted to see again. Adam and his team of lawyers were giving the documents one last look through.

Arthur asked for the third time, just to make sure he understood, "you are selling me a five-star restaurant for one dollar."

"Yes," Adam nodded.

"Is this even legal?" Arthur questioned.

"Yes," Cogsworth said with a roll of his eyes. "It's incredibly stupid, but legal." It was clear that the lawyer did not agree with his client's decision. Adam had received hefty offers for the business and turned them down. This made no sense.

"Why," Arthur demanded. "Do you think of me as some sort of bump on your road to redemption? If so, I want no part of this."

"No," Adam confessed. "I know that I could never redeem myself. I'm just trying to find myself. My father was a great man, but this restaurant was a him thing. I need a me thing. He always said that a man must start at the bottom to find out what he's made of. As much as I loathe to admit it, you're the best chef I know. The others have experience, but you have vision. I know you'll do right by the place."

Arthur signed the papers and went through the motions, though it was the last thing he yearned to do. He wanted nothing from the man who had taken everything from him, but Arthur knew that Gwen would not want him to piss away his future out of spite. She would want him to excel and take the world by storm.

Arthur, having been born without a filter, could not leave the meeting without letting Adam know a few harsh truths, "this doesn't even come close to replacing what you took from me. You destroyed my life. This does not absolve you and I will NEVER forgive you!"

Arthur stormed out of the meeting with the deed to a five star restaurant, and none of it meant anything without her. He was lost without Gwen.

Adam was drowning in a sea of emotions he didn't understand. So he reacted the way he always did when he felt confused. He lashed out in anger. He began to thrash about and tear the room apart. His lawyers fled as orderlies tackled him to the ground.

Adam felt the prick of a needle and a sudden calm swept over him. It was like peace in a syringe. Adam nodded off unaware of the impending doom. The Wolfpack had escaped from prison and they were coming to claim his head…

* * *

 _Adventure in the Great Wide Somewhere_

Backpacking around the globe, helping those in need was another of Dr. Belleza's passions. At the moment, she was in the Congo working with Doctors Without Borders. Many would say that she was insane for risking her life to treat patients in war-torn lands, but she had always wanted much more than this provincial life.

Most would assume that a psychiatrist would not be needed for such work, but they would be absolutely wrong. There were children whose parents were murdered by the militia. The orphans were forced to become child soldiers. War is brutal on the mind of adult military men and women, and for children it was all the more devastating.

Dr. Belleza was in the process of deprogramming child soldiers and transitioning them into permanent foster homes. When other doctors were shorthanded she pitched in to administer lifesaving vaccinations and treat minor wounds. The work was hard without all the fancy machinery that she would normally have access to. There was no pay, but she found the work rewarding.

The psychiatrist had given Adam her personal number encase of emergency, though the reception in this region of the world was not the best. She didn't normally get this personal with patients, but she could not deny that there was something special about this one.

Breaking dawn poured rays of gold and crimson over an African savanna. The view was indescribable, like something out of a dream, and Dr. Belleza wondered how some of the most beautiful places in the world could be ravaged by war.

Her signature yellow scrubs rustled in the morning breeze as she pulled out her camera and snapped a few photos. She knew that pictures would never be able to do this scenery justice, but she had promised to bring them back for her patients.

Dr. Belleza was utterly surprised and a little ashamed at the irrational desire to have Adam at her side and share this beauty with him. She could picture his blue eyes shimmering in the sunrise. Sure, he was a monster, but he'd been chivalrous and protective of her. If she was being honest with herself, he was handsome as well.

His very presence stirred all her senses, though she would never tell him of her admiration. Such confessions could cause the loss of her medical license. If they ever slept together she would go to prison for taking advantage of a man who'd been legally declared incompetent.

Plus the devastating effects that a relationship could have on the psyche of a mentally imbalanced person. He was making so much progress and the last thing she wanted was to set him back in anyway. So, Dr. Belleza did the only thing she could: keep her desires to herself and snap photos of a glorious sunrise.

She weaved through the large tent they had made into an infirmary. A few cots were occupied with sleeping dark skinned patients, but most preferred to recover at home. Dr. Belleza snapped on a pair of gloves. She grabbed a vial of clear medication with the letters MMR printed on the label. She punctured the vial with a needle flipped it upside down and drew medication into the syringe.

"Please hold her still," Dr. Belleza instructed the mother of a one year old baby.

"Yes doctor," the mother said with an accented voice.

The physician gave the baby her shot. The baby cried, but immediately forgave Dr. Belleza after she received a cartoon Band-Aid and a sweet lollipop.

The mother graciously thanked the physician for protecting her baby from deadly infectious diseases and went about her way.

Dr. Belleza glanced at her watch. It was nearly time for her group session to start with the former child soldiers. She discarded her gloves and hustled to grab a bite to eat before the session began. Her pocket vibrated, and she answered the call.

It was Adam speaking in a panic, "I have to stop taking the medicine! It's making me sick!"

"Why do you say that?" asked the beautiful doctor.

"I met with Arthur and now my stomach aches and there's a stabbing pain in my chest. It feels like I'm going to die."

"That's called guilt, shame, and empathy," she explained. "Being capable of feeling emotions means that the medicine is working."

Adam refused to believe it. "But it's painful. It's awful."

"It's progress," she assured him. "You're doing incredible."

Adam expressed gratitude for all she had done. As always, the doctor took no credit. She was just happy to see him getting better with each passing day.

"Goodnight Adam," she spoke into the phone with a hint of longing that she hoped he did not pick up on.

"Goodnight Dr. Belleza."

He hung up the phone with a slight smile on his face. He admired her ability to see the best in even the worst of people. Adam knew that her kindness stemmed from being a caring doctor, but there were moments when he wished for more.

He recalled a moment in therapy when things forever changed between them. She had asked, "please tell me of your last healthy romantic relationship."

It was embarrassing, but he was committed to his recovery, so he told the truth, "I've never had one. Relationships require communication skills and I've always been lacking in that department."

"Have you ever dated anyone?" she inquired.

"Online but never in person," his face was a wash of crimson as he confessed.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Dr. Belleza sweetly assured him.

"It's just that I could never trust my own feelings before I came here," Adam explained. "I was never certain if a girl was truly into me or if I was just fabricating a relationship in my head."

"And when you can't trust yourself, it's impossible to trust anyone else," the doctor concluded.

He nodded in agreement. "But there was one time that I know I felt something true."

"When was this?"

With a bit of reluctance, he passed her his journal, so she could read the entry:

 _Date: November 11th_

 _Dear Journal,_

 _I am Adam, stalker, felon, and much worse. I do not deny being any of these things, nor will anything I write be a justification for them. I was told to write the truth, and that's all this log will be. Not an excuse or a validation, but the God's honest truth._

 _I suppose my story truly begins with that of my mother. She had been raised in a strict Christian home, that cast her out when she got pregnant out of wedlock. The homeless fifteen year old wandered the streets of eastern Europe until finding refuge in a home for wayward girls. The shelter was terribly underfunded. There were infestations of bedbugs and roaches. My mother's skin became horribly infected with scabies._

 _One day a beautiful rich woman, from Spain, appeared. Her name was Angelica and she was like a goddess walking among mortals. She visited twice a year with gifts of clothes, electronics, and cash._

 _She noticed my mother's belly, swollen with child, and took an immediate liking to her. Angelica took my mother for prenatal care and an ultrasound, where it was revealed that she would be giving birth to a son in just a few short months. My mother was elated, especially after Angelica offered to whisk the teen and her unborn child away from the crude conditions of the shelter and a life of poverty._

 _My mother agreed to visit Angelica's castle in the country, to see if it was a good place to raise her son. Once my mother arrived she was never allowed to leave._

 _Angelica was not the saint everyone thought she was, just a pedophile with very specific tastes. The type of sex offender that preferred to raise her own victims from birth, so that she could mold and warp them to her liking. Angelica had a castle full of teenage boys, whom she referred to as her husbands. Before I had even sought light from my mother's womb I had been claimed as the mate of a predator._

 _My mother was chained in a dungeon and then murdered minutes after giving birth, and where her story ended is where mine began._

 _I lived a life of darkness, not a metaphor for sadness and despair, but the literal thirteen years of darkness I endured while locked in her majesty's dungeon._

 _I often imagined how my mother had looked. Did I possess her eyes or smile? What did her voice sound like? It's incredible how much you can miss someone you've never met._

 _Angelica controlled my world. The only reading material I was allowed to have were stories like Beauty and the Beast: tales that justified my wrongful imprisonment and taught me that love was to be taken instead of earned._

 _Once I'd outgrown fairytales I was given novels about women who fell in love with the pirates who kidnapped them. Every book was some Stockholm Syndrome kidnap story, and this became my reality. Love and control were one and the same._

 _On my thirteenth birthday I was finally allowed out of the dungeon and taken into her bed. I joined the other husbands in the castle and I could come and go as I pleased because she knew I would always return. Having known no other life I was completely enamored with her._

 _The husbands welcomed me with open arms and became like brothers to me. They were all named after legendary lovers: Casanova, Romeo, Tristan, and Lancelot. Even I had been named after a character from one of Angelica's smutty novels: a handsome pirate, who never had his pants on._

 _Angelica provided us with every luxury in life, the fastest cars, the most expensive watches and attire. I wasn't old enough to drive but there was always at least one older husband available to ride off on an adventure with. We traveled and saw the world. The older husbands hooked up with different girls on our outings and swore me to secrecy about it. I kept their secrets and they kept mine. We were a family._

 _It wasn't until I was fourteen that I befriended an eccentric restaurant owner named Lumiere. I told him everything. He called the police. The cops were coming to raid the castle and Angelica could not have live witnesses against her. She poured us glasses of poisoned wine and fled to the south of France. We were at deaths door when the police arrived. Romeo needed a liver transplant and if not for Tristan he would have died. We were hospitalized, some longer than others, but we all survived. Not that it mattered. We couldn't function in normal society. One by one we all ended up in prison. The other four formed a gang called the Wolfpack._

 _Angelica had murdered my mother. She had brainwashed and corrupted the only family I knew. Yet, some warped part of me was still under her spell. I cried when she was captured._

 _The authorities discovered the bodies of eleven unwed mothers, including my own, as well as seven young men who became too old for her liking. Angelica was deemed the evilest woman in history, and my molestation by her was the only example of love I'd ever had._

 _I was soon adopted by the restaurant owner who had called in the tip to the police. Lumiere was a truly honorable man who convinced me to testify against her. I find it ignorant and cruel of people to blame my father for what became of me after his passing. He did the best he could to raise a good man out of a severely damaged boy. It is I who failed him, not the other way around. Any treacherous acts I've committed were not the fault of Father, or even Angelica. They were my own._

 _Angelica once cursed me in the corridor at court, called me Judas and a traitorous beast. She told me that it was too late. She had broken me so badly that no woman would ever love me._

 _Having been raised in a dungeon, I was lacking the social skills needed to form a relationship. I offended or frightened every woman I encountered. Even online dating was a challenge, and I began to fabricate relationships to sate my loneliness. As the years passed I fell into despair and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?_

 _I was awaiting my own trial in prison the first time I ever felt something true for a woman. She was the only one who looked at me and didn't see a monster. She convinced me to look differently at myself, to reach down deep and find the prince within. Just when I thought that all was lost she taught me that my life was just beginning._

 _Beauty is her name and it's a fitting one, inside and out. This doctor saved my life and stole my heart. I became aware that every emotion I felt before the moment I met her was no more than obsession and lust. For the first time I had genuine feelings. For the first time I was truly in love…_

Dr. Belleza wiped a tear from her eye as she closed his journal. She had instructed him to write the truth for therapeutic reasons. She had not predicted that he would be jotting down his feelings for her. He'd poured his heart and soul onto the pages. A beast who trusted no one was allowing her to peer into the murky depths of him.

An overwhelming chemistry flooded the office as they met in the center of the room. They intertwined fingers and stood so close that he could feel the heat wafting from her body. She fought to ignore the urge to have him tear off her clothes and make love to her on the office rug or bend her over the desk and take her from behind if he preferred. These fantasies had whirled through her mind on more than one occasion.

The knot in his pants was evidence that he was thinking the same thing. It had been twelve long years since he'd known the warmth of a woman's touch, the passion of sharing oneself with the person you adore, the physical act of love. If only this once, he longed to be one with this Beauty.

She could feel his shaft pressed against her belly as he drew her into an embrace. He gazed down into her soft brown eyes, caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. Her hands encircled the back of his neck and he kissed her forehead softly. Her eyes drifted shut at the incredible feel of his lips. Their mouths drew closer and closer, yearning to fulfill a desire that burned inside them for a long time.

Suddenly she retreated and ran behind her desk.

"If you're afraid I'll tell someone, I swear to God I won't," he pleaded with her. "I exposed Angelica because I was a fourteen year old kid who didn't realize I was getting anyone in trouble. I know to keep my mouth shut now. I would never betray you. You mean too much to me."

"And you mean too much to me to risk harming you in anyway," she replied. "I'm so sorry, Adam. I am your doctor, but I am also human. I make mistakes too."

He was completely lost. "How can you call this a mistake? Did I not feel ready?"

Now she was embarrassed, but it was still her duty to explain, "just because you are physically ready for love doesn't mean that you're mentally and emotionally ready."

She began to dismiss his desires as Stockholm Syndrome. She said that the only reason he felt this way was because he was locked up and as such, she was his captor.

Adam sighed in defeat. He realized that she would always be a doctor first, and she likely feared that any intimacy would be an abuse of her power. Would he ever be able to convince her that he was not a victim, but a flesh and blood man with desires? What would it take to show her that he wanted this?

The one thing that made Adam second guess her medical opinion was the fact that it was based on hostages and people who were otherwise imprisoned. This hospital didn't take his freedom; it gave him freedom. It saved him from being a prisoner of his own mind. Dr. Belleza had not been his oppressor. She was his rescuer. So how was it possible that he had Stockholm Syndrome?

Adam had no choice but to agree with her diagnosis because he could not trust his own instincts. They had led him wrong before and he was determined to never harm another person. If the doctor said there were no true feelings between them, then he would just have to accept it.

Dr. Belleza did the ethical thing and assigned him a different physician for his individual therapy. Now the only time she saw Adam was in group therapy, and when they passed one another in the halls. Though it pained them both, she made certain that they were never alone again.

An urgent news bulletin snapped Adam out of the memory of a precious moment missed. There was a prison break. The wolf pack had escaped. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a hammer. Sweat beaded on Adam's skin as Rome's threat repeated over and over in his mind. _"I'm coming after this guy and then I'm coming after you."_

Being a psych patient and a convicted felon meant that Adam would find it hard to get people to listen. After the sale of the restaurant Adam was not to have any direct or indirect contact with Arthur. The authorities would see Adam's warnings as an attempt to intimidate a man he'd once tried to kill.

He would rot in prison for twenty-five years for violating the terms of the restraining order and as a result his parole. If they assumed Adam had cried wolf, no one would take the threat seriously. This would not save Arthur from a terrible fate. Adam would go to jail and it would all be for naught. Of course, his fancy lawyers might have been able to perform some legal gymnastics to save Arthur with no backlash on Adam. But after giving away his restaurant, he no longer had the money to pay for legal defense.

Adam called the only one who would believe him. Dr. Belleza had ventured so far from her service area that she wasn't getting any of his calls. She couldn't even receive his messages until she was in range of a cell tower.

Arthur was in mortal danger and there was no way for Adam to warn him…


	7. Chapter 7: A Beast at Bay

Chapter 7: A Beast at Bay

Rescuing Arthur would be next to impossible. Adam was dragged kicking and screaming down the hall by two orderlies. No one believed his rants that Arthur was in danger. They wouldn't allow him to call Arthur because of the restraining order. They wouldn't even allow him to call the police.

Having been once diagnosed as paranoid and delusional meant that Adam had zero credibility; even though, he was taking his medication faithfully and had not presented with such symptoms in a very long time.

As a psychiatric patient, Adam was not allowed to have a cellphone. Every call was placed through the phone at the front desk. Even then, the nurse was required to key in the number for him, and all calls were screened. There was just no way to get an unapproved message past them.

Adam beat on the door of the padded room they threw him in. Screaming for the nurses to hear him out. After all he put Arthur through he had to save him. He owed Arthur that much; he owed the man his life.

* * *

The requirements of Arthur's new job were intense, especially with the added pressures of culinary school, but he balanced his obligations well. In addition to cooking, he had to oversee the payroll, the budget, the imports, repairs, deal with the health department, higher new employees, and mediate disputes between servers and chefs.

There was the drama brought on by chefs that had worked there much longer than Arthur and coveted his position. Arthur hadn't even graduated from culinary school. It seemed unfair that he got to take over the restaurant. Initially they assumed that Arthur had no true talent and it was Adam's guilt that forced him to sign over the business. This couldn't have been further from the truth. Adam had wanted his dad's restaurant in, not just good hands, but the absolute best. Adam picked Arthur for this reason. The beast might not have been a world class chef, like his father, but he could certainly recognize one.

After Arthur was allowed to bring his ideas to the table, profits skyrocketed. His chefs realized that the right man was running the place. They grew to respect and admire him. Arthur informed them that if ever they yearned to branch out on their own they would have his full support. He would assist in any manner he could.

Running the restaurant was very hard but rewarding work. It was a much needed distraction from all the chaos that had occurred with Gwen. There were times when he still felt like his heart was dying.

The dessert that brought them together was now on the menu, named after her. It brought a smile to his face every time he saw a happy couple sharing it. The dessert was given freely with a complimentary bottle of champagne to any couple who got engaged there or used the restaurant for their wedding rehearsal dinner.

Even after all Arthur had been through he refused to stop believing in happy endings. To stop believing would be allowing the beast to destroy the last piece of his heart, the piece where Gwen still dwelled. Arthur had vowed to never let that happen.

Arthur rode up to the pump at the gas station. He probably had enough gas to make it home, but he didn't want to risk it. He knew that if stranded, pretty girls were picked up by passing vehicles, but not always guys, especially fellows with tattoos and piercings.

Arthur plugged his credit card into the machine, unlatched the pump, and filled the tank of his bike. He turned his back to the breeze as it blew gasoline fumes in his direction. Arthur was just hanging up the pump when a panel van rode up alongside him. Three musclebound brutes snatched Arthur into the van while the fourth sped away with him…

* * *

Adam anxiously paced the floor of his padded cell. He searched the recesses of his mind for a way to save a man he had tried to kill just a year before, a man whose life he had destroyed. The beast could not deny the irony of his situation.

Adam pushed the call button on the wall. When the nurse answered, he told her, "I'm very anxious. Is there anything you can give me?"

"How about some Xanax?" she replied.

"I need something stronger," he insisted. "I'm trying to sleep and my thoughts are racing."

"I'll send someone down," she assured him.

A male orderly strolled in twenty minutes later, with a syringe full of sedative. "Just relax, Adam. You'll feel much better in a moment."

Adam grabbed the orderly by the arm, flipped the man over his back, and stuck him with the syringe. His growing ability to feel emotions flooded him with guilt and shame for assaulting the guy, but this was the lesser of two evils. This man was going to live while Arthur might suffer an excruciating death. Adam stole the orderly's uniform, badge, and keycard. Then he escaped the hospital.

* * *

Arthur regained consciousness in what looked like a torture chamber or a medieval dungeon. It smelled musty and the stone walls were glistening with dew. His wrists were zip tied to the arms of a chair. His ankles were duct taped to the legs of it. There was a sturdy rope that bound his torso to the chair back. He could barely move, let alone escape.

This was the Wolves' Lair, a place that served as Adam's childhood prison, as well as that of his brethren. Flickering torches sent dancing shadows over the pack of wolves that surrounded Arthur.

"Why have you taken me?!" Arthur demanded.

"Nothing personal," said Casanova. "We just needed a particularly juicy worm to hook our traitorous brother."

"Fishing never works out well for the bait," Arthur snapped. "So, forgive me if I take this personally. Who the hell is your brother? How does he know me?"

Romeo answered, "we couldn't risk our freedom by trying to break into a psych ward and kill him. So we decided to force Adam to break out."

"Adam?" Arthur laughed without humor. "If you believe a sociopath like Adam is going to condemn himself to life in prison just to rescue me, then you're even crazier than he is."

"We will have our vengeance!" shouted Lancelot.

"You're never going to get revenge on this wanker because you've abducted the wrong guy," Arthur insisted. "We're not exactly mates, and by that I mean we literally tried to kill each other. I still have fantasies of him being poisoned or hit by a bus. So, name your price so I can pay the damn ransom, and let me go. It's the only card you have to play."

"That's where you're wrong," said Tristan. "My pussy of a brother has more sentiment than you know. He will show up if only to whimper over your cold, rotting, corpse."

Arthur struggled ferociously as the vicious animals restrained him and duct taped a plastic bag over his head. The callous wolves snuffed out Arthur's oxygen. The crinkling bag deflated and expanded as Arthur gasped for air.

He could see through the clear bag that they were venturing upstairs, leaving him to die. The steam from Arthur's breath fogged the bag and soon he could see nothing. He struggled so hard to free himself that the chair he was bound to flipped backwards. He slammed the floor hard but was no less trapped. His desperate gasps were for nothing. Each breath poisoned him with his own carbon dioxide. Arthur's limbs grew heavy as he began to fade like the flame of a covered candle.

In Arthur's delirium, he could see Gwen. He could hear her begging him to fight, to hang on for just a bit longer. Her pleas brought him back to life and gave him something to hold onto.

A sudden burst of air invaded his lungs and a feeling of euphoria swept over him. The brown of Gwen's eyes transformed to blue. Her hair lightened to blonde and her voice became masculine. As Arthur regained his senses he saw that it had not been Gwen but Adam begging him to hang in there while he cut the bag. Arthur reeled away in terror and grabbed the nearest brick to bash him with.

Adam urged him to calm down. "You don't like me and I'm not your biggest fan, but we must work together, or they will kill us."

This was the last person on earth Arthur wanted to trust but he had no choice. "How do we get out of here?"

"Follow me."

Adam trudged through the dungeon with Arthur at his heels. The fact that the beast knew exactly where he was going, made Arthur trust him even less. Was Adam one of them? Was he part of this? Arthur had no way of knowing, so he held onto the brick in case he had to use it.

They entered a cell that was once a child's bedroom. There were dust covered toys on the floor, and children's books on a shelf. Arthur cringed at the revelation that some unfortunate little girl or boy had been imprisoned here. Adam moved the bookcase aside to reveal an escape route to a garden.

"Come on." Adam beckoned him.

Arthur backed away slowly, fully prepared to use his brick. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I'll find my own way out."

"We don't have time for this."

"You found this place too easily," Arthur said with an accusing glare and an iron grip on the brick. "Who were you keeping here, Adam? Are you some sort of deranged child killer?!"

"I know about this cell because it was mine," Adam confessed with a queasy feeling in his stomach. Choppy memories of being starved and beaten flooded back to him as he tried to talk Arthur out of bashing his skull, "and I know about this hole because it took five years for me to dig it! I know you have no reason to trust me, but I really need you to."

Arthur followed him through the dank earthy tunnel. Snakes slithered past them. Squeaking rats scurried from their path. They emerged in a garden that was so neglected it looked haunted. Thorny branches snagged their clothing as they fled for their lives.

Arthur could hear the vroom of all-terrain vehicles as he and Adam fled into the woods behind the castle. The wolves were hunting them down, howling at the moon just to taunt and intimidate their prey. Arthur and Adam were running so hard that pain stabbed at their sides. Out of breath, muscles cramping, they forged on.

Their legs soon proved no match for motorized vehicles. Adam whipped around in all directions. There was nowhere to run. He was a beast at bay. They were surrounded by armed men on four wheelers, the lights of which were blinding.

Tristan dismounted his ATV and pulled out a giant knife with a serrated blade. He snarled at Adam, "I am going to filet you like a fish."

"You'll have to do that after I beat the shit out of him," said Lancet as he reached for his baseball bat.

Romeo pulled out surgical tools as he told Adam, "I am going to start cutting off things, and I promise they will be things you'll miss."

Casanova spoke with his signature smoothness, "now settle down bros. We'll all get our pound of flesh, even if we must keep him alive by blood transfusion for a month. He will know pain." Casanova turned to Arthur and assured him, "your death will be quick and painless. Like I said, it's nothing personal."

Adam did something extremely strange for a man who was doomed to suffer an excruciating demise; he began to laugh hysterically. The wolves looked at him like he was crazy. Arthur thought he was going insane.

Adam just shook his head at the four of them. "You're all pathetic. Angelica was killed in prison a decade ago and she still has you wrapped around her finger!"

"She was our wife!" yelled Romeo. "She was your wife!"

"She was a monster!" Adam yelled back. "A pedophile and a MURDERER!"

Tristan shouted in her defense, "she gave us everything! And you betrayed her!"

"You betrayed the pack!" screamed Lancelot.

Arthur was utterly confused. He felt as if he'd fallen down the rabbit hole, like he was Alice trapped in a wonderland that made no sense.

Casanova pictured all the ways he would inflict suffering on Adam. "Did it ever occur to you that the rest of us would be too old to be adopted by an eccentric millionaire? You were free to live happily ever after with your new daddy. The rest of us were adults in the eyes of the law. We were out on our asses with no formal education, no work history, and no money."

"Did it ever occur to you that I saved all of your lives?!" Adam swore. "Angelica was a black widow! A wanton predator who killed every husband she had once he turned twenty. She only liked teenagers. Lance, you would have had two years to live. Rome and Tris, you would have had just a year. Cas, you were a dead man walking. Doomed in six months!"

Arthur was aghast at what he was hearing. How could such depravity exist in the world?

"She wouldn't have done that to us," Romeo insisted. "We were special."

"I'm sure she told all of those poor murdered bastards that they were special too," said Adam. "I'm sure she made our mothers feel special before she cut their throats."

Tristan growled, "we are truly going to enjoy killing you. Angelica was right. You are a traitorous beast."

"We're all beasts," Adam snapped. "I'm just the only one sane enough to realize it, and honest enough to admit it."

A fury unlike any Arthur had ever witnessed bounced from one face to the next like a wave. Crazy people really hate being called crazy. The wolves abandoned their ATVs. They would return for them later. Right now, they had killing to do. They aimed guns at Arthur and Adam, forcing them to return to the lair.

Casanova couldn't resist taking one last jab at Adam before he killed him, "you had to have known you would never escape us, but you came for him anyway."

Adam smiled, "I never needed to escape. I just needed to stall you."

The wolves looked puzzled as Adam lifted his pantleg to reveal an electronic ankle monitor. This was a GPS locator he was forced to wear for the first year of his treatment. The sudden roar of police sirens echoed through the forest. The darkness erupted with flashing lights.

A voice sounded through a bullhorn, "you are surrounded. Lower your weapons and put your hands up."

Relief swept through Arthur as his abductors were handcuffed and loaded in the back of police cruisers. But something was off. Adam was being arrested too.

"Twenty-five years seems a steep price to pay for a parole violation. He saved my life," Arthur explained, amazed that he would ever take up for Adam.

"Twenty-five years?" Detective Aredian laughed, "Adam violated a restraining order, broke the terms of his parole, assaulted a nurse to escape from a psychiatric facility, and with the Wolfpack in agreement that he was in on the whole thing, he'll be charged as an accessory to kidnapping and attempted murder as well. He'll never see the light of day."

Arthur was stunned. He just stood there with a slack jawed look as they loaded Adam in the back of the police car.

"Smile kid," Detective Aredian assured him, "we finally got the bastard."

Arthur was no fan of Adam, but his Christian parents had raised him to tell the truth, and it was Gwen who taught him that justice and vengeance were not one and the same. Gwen felt that hurting someone in self-defense couldn't always be avoided, but hurting someone to get even was just plain wrong.

Arthur begrudgingly confessed, "those guys who took me are lying. They're trying to screw Adam by any means."

"It doesn't matter if they're lying," the detective smiled. "All that matters is what the jury believes."

Arthur had envisioned this moment and much worse for a long time. He had pictured himself popping a bottle of champagne and rejoicing in Adam's demise. Now that the moment was finally upon him, Arthur wasn't sure how he felt about it. He'd never been so conflicted.

Arthur jogged over to the police car. He asked for the uniformed officer to crack the back window, so he could talk to a man he no longer considered a beast.

Adam assured him, "it's alright, Arthur, I knew I would be locked away forever the moment I decided to escape. My life began in a cell, seems fitting for it to end in one."

"But they're filthy liars."

"Doesn't matter. Of the five of us I was the only one with motive to harm you. They're already spinning a tale that I was so delusional I planned your abduction just to live out some fantasy of being a hero."

"It's bullshit," Arthur snapped.

Though Adam knew his words might not make a difference, he could not be hauled off to prison without telling Arthur, "I was not myself when I took your Gwen. If I could take it back, please know that I would."

"There must be something I can do," Arthur insisted.

"There is. At the hospital there's a Dr. Belleza, a real do-gooder type that will take my imprisonment as a personal failure on her part. Please tell her this wasn't her fault. She taught me to be a man, and as such I could not turn my back on you."

"I will explain what truly happened here," Arthur promised.

"And Arthur…" the beast hesitated as tears filled his eyes. "please tell her… I love her."

* * *

The prosecution was flabbergasted when Arthur took the stand for the defense. His testimony completely contradicted the lies of the Wolfpack. As a result, Adam was returned to the hospital and his beloved Beauty.

Within a year Arthur had flipped the profits of that restaurant into a second enterprise. There was a star studded grand opening for his second restaurant. Even his family flew in for the celebration.

Arthur was standing in an Armani suit with a glass of expensive champagne. This was the big time. He had made it, and his success meant nothing without her. Arthur had imagined this moment a hundred times in a hundred different ways, but the one aspect that remained constant was Gwen.

His older brother, Percival, approached and reminded him, "Gwen would want you to have a good time. She would want you to enjoy your life."

"I am," Arthur said.

"Can you tell that to your face," Percival joked.

Arthur's pocket began to vibrate, and he pulled out his phone. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

Arthur listened for less than a minute before running out the door. Curious heads spun around to look at him and he didn't care. He jumped on his Ducati and raced down the street. Arthur weaved in and out of traffic until finding his destination.

He ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, then raced down the florescent halls. He slid to a stop and entered the room unable to believe Gwen was awake. After two years in a coma she'd opened her beautiful brown eyes.

"Arthur." She reached out to him, and he wrapped her in an embrace.

He clutched her as if she would disappear if he loosened his grip for even a second, and he realized that he had to marry her because he could never let her go again. Arthur kissed Gwen in the intensive care unit, surrounded by nurses and beeping machines. This was a miracle and Arthur had never been one to throw away a miracle…

* * *

Epilogue: A Tale as Old as Time

 _Five years later…_

Outstanding and phenomenal were just two of the compliments Adam had received on his autobiography, entitled _A Tale as Old as Time_. It was number one on seven bestseller's lists. He was worth millions by the time he was released from the hospital. A man who was once considered a beast had fans on every continent. Adam would have never guessed that so many people would be invested in a true-life tale of Beauty and the Beast. His book signings drew crowds the size of rock concerts. His life story would be a major motion picture in the spring.

Adam and Dr. Belleza remained very close throughout the years and this platonic relationship blossomed into something more. They planned their wedding the moment he was released. The sands of time had changed many things. The man who swore to never forgive Adam, agreed to be his best man and stand by his side at the ceremony.

Adam booked an American R&B group called Dru Hill. They sang their song _Beauty_ as the bride made her way down the aisle. The ridiculous grin on Adam's face reminded Arthur of his own wedding to Gwen. This was a lovely ceremony that was bringing forth wonderful memories, and the reception was even grander.

Everyone showed up with a plus one, except for Gaston who showed up with a plus three: Tess, Jess, and Bess. Gwen was shocked to see Gaston's trio of blondes enter the reception in clunky snow boots.

Tess huffed impatiently, "why must we wear these hideous snow boots?"

Jess and Bess stared him down with their arms crossed in protest, demanding to know the answer as well.

"You are wearing snow boots because it is snowing," Gaston answered. "There was a guy I knew, who grew up poor. When sports provided an escape from a life of poverty he seized the opportunity. Even after attaining wealth beyond his wildest dreams he was not satisfied. He had to show the world what he had and how far he'd come. He became vain and selfish. He lost the woman he loved because he was more concerned with her appearance than her safety. He was foolish and I yearn not to repeat his mistakes."

The ladies swooned. They were putty in his hands.

Gaston told Tess, "if my girlfriend asks me to try a desert I will do it. If she drags me to a wedding I will go. And if she asks me to move in her two best friends so she's not lonely while I'm away I will reserve a moving truck."

Gwen smiled thoughtfully as she watched Gaston walk away with his own cheerleading squad. Gaston had proposed to Gwen in the past, but she turned him down. She couldn't fathom a lasting relationship with any man who obsessed over her appearance. She was elated to see that Gaston had learned from his mistakes and found happiness. It was a time for second chances, and Gwen was proud of him.

The aromas of exquisite cuisine and expensive perfume reminded Gwen of her own wedding with Arthur. She caught herself smiling at recollections of their magical evening, the way they professed their love and danced beneath the stars.

The ballroom floor cleared as the former beast and his beauty ventured out for their first dance as man and wife. The bride had always been an academic, with her nose stuck in a book from the moment she learned to read. Everything had taken a backseat to her studies and research. Things like dancing were foreign to the hardworking doctor, and now she had to dance in front of everyone.

The groom circled her slowly. The heat that trailed him wrapped around her like ribbons, as did the spicy scent of his cologne. His blazing blue eyes anchored her spirit to his and her body followed along. As long as she looked into his eyes she knew exactly where his next step would take her. The women swooned and teared up as they watched him twirl her around under a dazzling chandelier. Their waltz ended to a roar of applause and everyone joined them on the dancefloor.

Gwen and Arthur had come here for closure, a chance to put the past behind them. They never expected to have this much fun. A blush of embarrassment swept over Gwen's face when she heard her name announced by the DJ. Arthur had dedicated a song to her called _24/7_ by Kevon Edmonds because it described the way he felt since the day he met her.

It was a tale as old as time: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy reunites with girl in epic fashion.

Gwen met him on the dancefloor, and as always, she felt like heaven in his arms. A party whirled around them but as Arthur gazed into her eyes the rest of the world disappeared. Guinevere was his heart's one true desire and his destiny. She was his queen and he would love her for the rest of his life.

-The End-

 **I hope you enjoyed _A Tale as Old as Time_. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! :^)**

 **-Embrasia**


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